Farm News 09-25-05

Sunday morning, after chores

Sadness in the Rabbitry
Four rabbits are still alive in the rabbitry and they have to go. The only way to eliminate the Listeria infection is to get rid of all the rabbits, thoroughly clean the cages, and then start over. Selling the remaining rabbits isn't really an option, as they probably carry the disease and I wouldn't care to be responsible for passing it on. I like those rabbits and it won't be easy, but I will have to kill and bury them. Fluff and Rosie are gentle, friendly rabbits who have been here for a long time and will be missed.

Dr. M, will you take a few days out of your schedule, please, and discover a permanent cure for Listeriosis? (For those of you who are recent readers, Dr. M is a veterinarian who has agreed to do any heart surgery I might require in the future. The M.D. who did my last heart surgery obviously used a backhoe. An M.D. should not be allowed to take his backhoe into surgery. I trust D.V.M.s more than M.D.s.)

Microdot Flies Like a Bird
Wednesday morning, while doing chores, I heard a chick calling in moderate distress. It was Microdot, of course, the only chick on the place. He had flown up to a stick some five feet above the ground and was now concerned about flying back down. Microdot still has a downy back but his wing and tail feathers are out, so he can fly. His excursion to a stick five feet above the ground convinced me that he can now probably fly out of any water pan he happens to jump into.

Ting Turns Cranky
Ting Somerset, of the Somerset Twins, is still in the barn. Ling, her sister, has disappeared. I thought that Ling was setting on eggs somewhere, but I haven't been able to find her and now I'm starting to think that a predator stole her away. It's too bad the predator didn't get Ting, who could win first prize in any contest for the most stupid and useless chicken, but it seldom works that way.

If one truly thinks about it, calling an animal stupid doesn't make much sense, they know as much as they need to know to survive. Then you come across something like Ting. The other chickens go around eating, clucking, and laying eggs. Ting eats, but she doesn't cluck and she seldom lays eggs. Instead, she spends a lot of her time attacking my shoes and the barn cats. She doesn't associate with the other chickens but instead roosts with and wanders around with the turkeys. So, when I walk out to the barn, Guy Noir, the black tom turkey, comes running, chirping and cheering, and right behind him comes Ting, fixated on my shoes.

Butterflies
Readers in the midwest should be careful at this time of the year when driving. The Monarch butterflies are migrating now and many of them fail to observe proper highway crossing safety rules. A vanguard group collided with the Houston folks driving creating a 150 mile long traffic jam.

I don't know how high Monarchs can fly, but I do know that with a 16x spotting scope aimed up during migration you can see tiny little dots fluttering south. Dr. M, are Veterinarians ever called upon to treat Monarchs for altitude sickness? My guess is that they are flying 5,000 feet or more above the ground.

Finding a butterfly roost during this season is a wonderful experience. They tend to roost on a tall shrub and will completely cover it. Then they will all open and close their wings at the same time. The effect is psychedelic.

Editor Becomes More Stupid
Ting isn't any more stupid than I am. Yesterday I sent out the latest Help! Millie! Newsletter and dated it 10-01-05. I've been having a lot of trouble keeping track of the date lately. Fortunately, I'm old enough to be able to blame it on age, an excuse which implies that I have replaced memory with wisdom. If you would like to receive Help! Millie!, which I hope isn't as stupid as I am, send an email to HelpMillie@ruralnet1.com.

The new newsletter, One More Year, will be out in another week or so. To receive it, send an email to OneMoreYear@geezernet.com. One More Year is about staying out of a nursing home for one more year. Dr. M has subscribed, but not the Cardiologist I see, nor the Family Practice physician who takes care of me when I have a cold. There is no question about it, Veterinarians provide better care.


Classified
Shrine For Sale: Virgin Mary on the half shell, complete with fountain pump. Unpainted but in full working condition. $500. Reply to FarmNews@Geezernet.com Box 133.

Homosexual jackass for sale. Nice disposition but not suitable for children. $100. Serious inquiries only. FarmNews@Geezernet.com, Box 69, attention Calvin. (State constitutions prohibit shipping homosexual jackasses to Kansas and Missouri.)


E-mail Subscribers: To subscribe, unsubscribe, contribute stories, complain or send a gift subscription, send an email to FarmNews@GeezerNet.com . The editor reserves the right to steal ideas submitted, rewrite submissions, and sign false names to them whenever it strikes his fancy to do so.

Farm News 09-18-05

Sunday morning, after chores

Microdot Grows
Microdot, this year's total Golden Sebright bantam chick crop, continues to grow. He's about two inches tall now and completely secure in his belief that he is invulnerable. Usually, about four out of five bantam chicks make it to adulthood, probably through audacity and possibly divine intervention. Microdot runs around under the goat's feet, skitters out just beyond the pecking reach of the ganders, and goes about his business, which is eating enough to fuel all that activity and also grow a tiny bit.


Trusty Captures Second Opossum

That fine dog found a possum under the barn floor. It was a major undertaking but we finally got it out. This one was a young female, definitely not the sort of animal one wants living in the barn.




Turkeys Behaving Badly, by Teresa Carman


After reading that a male turkey may respond aggressively to what a person is wearing, I quickly forgot it and went about my business. (Quickly forgetting things becomes easier every year.) Then, several weeks ago, as my husband and I were preparing to leave for town, I ran out to check the water and feed one last time. As I was topping off one of the water containers the older birds all started ripping into one another, several attacking another, some attacking the attackers, and hens joining in also. I started to pull some of the attacking birds off and then it dawned on me that I had on a red cotton dress and dashed to the house. No one attacked me but, for the birds, it was complete mayhem. After several minutes I peeked around the corner and checked the birds and everyone was calm again.

Then several days ago while I was gone my hubby thought he'd surprise me by finishing a project for me in the turkey house. When I got home he told me what he had done and expressed surprise that the birds were attacking each other, much the way that they had done with me previous. The birds are normally very calm. I asked him what color of shirt he was wearing and he told me red. My dress was a bright rose red and his shirt was more of a muted maroon red.

I definitely am not painting the new turkey house barn red! (red is my favorite color.) I will also watch my wardrobe when I go to do chores. I have Regal Red Turkeys but apparently their feather coloring isn't the right shade to cause aggression.

This story was submitted by Teresa Carman, who raises Regal Red turkeys, a very rare breed, in Arizona. If you are interested in raising Regal Reds, or in helping preserve rare turkey breeds, Teresa's email address is RegalRedGal@Yahoo.com. I have altered the story to where Teresa might not recognize it, but, well, read the disclaimer at the bottom.


Epizootic Rages Through Rabbitry
There aren't many rabbits left in the rabbitry. What appears to be Listeriosis, a disease caused by a micro-organism called Listeria, has been killing rabbits daily. So far, Fluffy and Rosie, two of the original rabbits, are okay. Four of the young rabbits died this week. I'm assuming that the old buck I got from Calvin was the source of the disease.

My current plan is to wash and scrub the empty cages with soapy water, then rinse, then spray it with a bleach solution. The manure under the cages is still usable for fertilizer and I don't want to over-contaminate it with bleach.




New Publication

I am starting a new email newsletter, One More Year. The assumption driving this newsletter is that your computer can give you one more year before you enter a nursing home. One More Year at home. To subscribe, click on this link: Subscribe to One More Year. If you have early macular degeneration, or diabetes, or hypertension, for cryin' out loud subscribe now. Don't plan on learning to use a computer to help you survive after you're blind or have had a stroke.

E-mail Subscribers: To subscribe, unsubscribe, contribute stories, complain or send a gift subscription, send an email to FarmNews@GeezerNet.com . The editor reserves the right to steal ideas submitted, rewrite submissions, and sign false names to them whenever it strikes his fancy to do so.

Farm News 09-11-05

Sunday morning, after chores

Microdot Thrives

Microdot, the tiny bantam chick, is doing quite well with it's mother in the goat shed. Today Microdot got a waterer just for him (her, it?). When the bantam chicks reach just the right size they will often fly into a pan of water and then drown or chill. This period of what looks like suicidal obsession usually last for about four days for most chicks. As Microdot is the only bantam chick hatched this year, I would like to keep him alive, which is like saying, “I know this rock in my shoe is uncomfortable, but it's the only rock I have.”

Microdot isn't completely useless; in fact, the bantams usually sell for as much per bird as the geese or turkeys, and bantams require a lot less feed. In the Spring a breeding trio of nice Golden Sebright bantams, such as Microdot, will bring twenty dollars or more at auction. Isn't that amazing? An incredibly delicious and nutritious cholesterol-laden goose isn't any more valuable that a tiny, inedible, bad-tempered chicken.

The bantams roost directly over the barn door so that they will have the opportunity to poop on my head when I come in to do morning chores. Each morning I count them--there are only four, the rooster, Claudius, and three hens named Drusilla. If a hen is missing I assume it is either setting on eggs or helping baby hawks grow. This year none of the hens sat on eggs until Drusilla sat on her nest and hatched Microdot. The odds of that happening are very low, like the odds of a hurricane filling New Orleans with water.

The bantams are completely free range. They have the run of the place and, in most years, produce thirty or more young. The main thing that I must do to help them produce is to remove the excess eggs from the nests. If the hen has twenty eggs in her nest, she might produce four or five chicks if she's lucky. If she has ten eggs in her nest she will probably produce nine or ten chicks. More eggs than the hen can cover leads to eggs being rotated out from under the hen, where they chill.

Microdot hatched from a nest that contained way too many eggs. I noticed that Drusilla was missing from the roost at night but couldn't find her nest, so I assumed that she was helping baby owls grow, and never had the opportunity to remove the excess eggs. After Microdot hatched Drusilla stayed on the nest, but Microdot, being hungry, left. The first time I saw him he was in the mouth of Marmalade, a half-grown kitten. I rescued him, seemingly unharmed, from Marmalade and started looking for Drusilla. After several hours of looking I gave up and put Microdot in a heated box (101°) for the night, along with some chick starter feed and water. The next afternoon I found Drusilla and then put Microdot near her. She clucked a few times and Microdot dived for cover under Mama.

Mother hens do not lead their chicks, chicks lead their mothers. As far as I know, it's that way with all poultry, and the louder the baby can peep the more devoted the mother. Microdot, after a night with heat, light, food, and water, could make a lot of noise and Drusilla followed him, abandoning the rest of her eggs, which probably wouldn't have hatched, anyway. So now I have one chick for the year, which is better than I was doing.

Oh, Mercy – part 4 by Susan Maricle
When Mike got home, he tried a different tack. Rather trying to capture the keet, he set his sights on Mercy. We dragged out an old dog crate which was used years ago for our Doberman, Stoney, and had been used for countless critters since then. It was fairly easy to net Mercy, who was deposited into the crate. Within moments the keet ventured out in search of its surrogate mother. Seeing her in the crate, the keet slipped between the bars to join her. Hearing Mike's triumphant "GOT IT!"--by this time I couldn't stand the suspense and was standing across the yard--I knew the mission was accomplished.

Now, the only thing left to do was unite "mother" and babies. Mike, Wyatt, and I deposited the keets one by one from the cooler into their new home, an empty rabbit hutch. Last came Mercy. As we closed the hutch lid, the keets' alarmed cheeping turned immediately to contented peeping. They were all together again. It had been a trying day for all, people and poultry alike. The keets soon fell asleep snuggled under their new mother. Even without her tail feathers, Mercy was able to cover all 16 babies. Since the closest guesstimate of keets had been 18, the fox had only captured one--and perhaps none at all.

Considering the quantities of poultry we'd lost this summer, every rescued keet was a blessing. Maybe we were in denial, hoping that the predator would eventually move on. But when finding prey is as easy as shopping at the grocery store, no such luck. I felt ashamed for thinking we should sacrifice the last keet for the greater good of the flock, but Mike said no. Unintended losses to predators were one thing. Intentionally abandoning a bird was another.

Thinking of The Widow, who had lost her life after hatching a huge clutch against huge odds, I knew I would feel more kindly toward guineas. And I was especially grateful for Mercy. She's an ordinary Heinz 57 hen. But she eluded the fox, saved another hen's babies, and adopted them. So many chickens of ours have abandoned their chicks, or lost them, or continued to sit on nests of eggs that had gone bad weeks before. Mercy was worthy of a solid gold nesting box. She was as much a hero as the chicken on the PBS documentary, who covered her chicks with her body (and survived) as a hawk was about to sink its claws into them.

On our little five-acre farm, it doesn't take much to create an afternoon of high drama. But then, it doesn't take much to create a moment of sheer joy. The keets are no longer little puffballs, but little birds with long necks, a sign that they will someday be big birds. I don't know if they'll grow up with the mannerisms of guineas or of chickens. But one thing is certain. They'll grow up. Thanks to Mercy.

Thank you, Susan. And, I hope you will have another story for us soon.


E-mail Subscribers: To subscribe, unsubscribe, contribute stories, complain or send a gift subscription, send an email to FarmNews@GeezerNet.com . The editor reserves the right to steal ideas submitted, rewrite submissions, and sign false names to them whenever it strikes his fancy to do so.

Farm News 09-04-05

Sunday morning, after chores, 68°


Flower Seed

Paula has been collecting flower seed. Each year she plants rows of Zinnias, Marigolds, and Cosmos in the garden to attract butterflies and to provide seed for the next year. When the birds start eating the seed she collects the seed heads in paper sacks and stores the sacks in the house. The flowers breed true, for the most part, so we know about what we will get from them. Flowers and butterflies in the garden make it more pleasant to go out there and pull weeds.

The butterflies are doing quite well this year. Currently there are lots of Fritillaries, Buckeyes, Angle Wings, and Monarchs. For some reason there were very few Hackberry butterflies this year. It is amazing how much the populations can vary from year to year of all species. Most years you can't go outside without being mobbed by Hackberry butterflies wanting to roost on your arms, head, and neck.

Butterflies like Zinnias, especially if the Zinnias are well watered. Because we also grow Bronze Fennel we have lots of Anise Swallowtails, big, beautiful black and yellow butterflies. The adult Anise Swallowtail likes to sip the nectar of a Zinnia but the caterpillars eat Fennel. (Like the caterpillars, my niece's twin two year old daughters also like to eat the licorice-like Fennel leaves.) Attracting butterflies is a two part exercise, you need flowers for the adults and leaves for the caterpillars.

Sometimes, when the weather has been dry, I will water the Zinnias and, a few hours later, see as many as ten Great Spangled Fritillaries fluttering from flower to flower. That is enough to make an old geezers heart sing. Fritillary caterpillars live primarily on violets, easy enough, because Pansies and little Johnny-Jump-Ups are both violets. My favorite violet is the Bowles Black Viola, a nice little black violet that blooms in the spring and usually reseeds itself. Here, it is necessary to start a new batch every three or four years.


Books

I just read a scary statistic: 59% of the adults in the United States do not own a book, not even a cookbook. No wonder people accept such nonsense as Intelligent Design. I always figure that people who believe in Intelligent Design have never seen a baby born. That is the messiest, most unintelligent event I have ever witnessed, although the end product can be wonderful.

How can one live without a dictionary? Or, a guide to the stars? Or, The Sibley Guide to Birds of North America, or Trees, Shrubs, and Woody Vines in Kansas, or The Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Butterflies?

The important question is, “What can we, as concerned citizens, do to increase literacy in America?” I try to do my part by kissing the nearest librarian every day. Of course, being married to her makes that fairly easy.


Trusty Kills His First Possum

Tuesday morning, while protecting me during my morning walk, Trusty found a possum in a hollow tree stump. When looking down into the hole about all that could be seen was a lot of sharp teeth. I poked a stick down there and the possum snapped at it. That was enough opportunity for Trusty, who dived in, grabbed the possum, and pulled it out. What a fine brave dog.


Oh, Mercy – part 3 by Susan Maricle

Quickly, Mike grabbed a small plastic bucket and gathered up what keets he could find. He counted nine. The fox was continuing to decimate our poultry population. Mike brought the bucket into the house, and by that time I arrived home with Wyatt. As Mike filled me in on what had happened, we heard still more keets, sounding like frog peepers deep in the woods.

Mercy continued to collect babies. She circled around a dirt embankment, trudged upward through the tall grass, and led the keets one at a time down the embankment. With all the birds we've had to nurse this summer, I'd become proficient at preparing emergency housing. I grabbed a cooler and put in a layer of bedding, a feeder, and a waterer. The keets from inside the house went into the cooler. So did the keets that Mercy was collecting. There were fifteen in all.

Finally, there was only one keet cheeping out in the grass. Both Mike and I tried to grab it but it seemed to vanish into thin air. We decided to get the cooler from inside the house and bring it back outside, hoping the sound of the keet's brothers and sisters would lure it in.

But there was a problem. While we looked for the last keet, the babies in the cooler would be sitting targets for the fox. So Mike laid a screen on top of the cooler. He laid a small flatbed trailer on one half of the screen, providing security and also allowing ventilation. Then he stacked three spare tires on top of the trailer. (If you wait long enough, there will be a use for that junk you have lying around in the yard.)

"Will that keep the fox out?" I asked skeptically.

"Oh yeah," Mike assured me. "That fox would need a Ph.D. to figure out how to get in."

"He does have a Ph.D.," I said dryly. "A Poultry Heisting Degree."

By this time, Mike had to leave for a mowing job. If the keet came out, he instructed me, try to chase it up the embankment--it would be easier to catch. Three times I tried, three times it eluded me, three times Mercy herded it back, stopping only once for a quick bite of corn. (I imagine she was getting worn out.) The best I could do was keep the fox away....

The final installment of Susan's story will run next week.


Microdot

This has been a lousy year for poultry. Not even the bantams have been producing; usually by this time they have brought forth thirty to forty chicks. Saturday morning a hen that has been missing the past month reappeared with one chick, already named Microdot. Mother and baby seem to be doing fine.

Speaking of naming, the young turkeys need names. The all black one is definitely a tom and probably the only tom in the group of four. That leaves the hens, two blues and a white with faint blue and beige markings, to be named, also. 'Uncle' is too obvious for the tom, although 'Tom' has been suggested. He loves watermelon, by the way, so there is no apparent reason to be politically correct about his name.


Hurricane Pam

Readers might find it enlightening to look at the results of a Google search on hurricane pam.



E-mail Subscribers: To subscribe, unsubscribe, contribute stories, complain or send a gift subscription, send an email to FarmNews@GeezerNet.com . The editor reserves the right to steal ideas submitted, rewrite submissions, and sign false names to them whenever it strikes his fancy to do so.