Farm News 01-01-06
New Year's morning, after chores, 43°
Happy New Year
The best thing about this holiday is that it signals the end of the holiday season. I managed to succeed in my New Year's resolution for 2005. For the first time in several years I went through the entire year without being subjected to hearing Little Drummer Boy. My son and and I have made the resolution every year for at least a decade, that we shall strive to make it through the coming year without hearing that horrid piece of music.
Bump Boards the Ferry
A group of turkey fanciers have created Misfit Island, the place where pets go when they die. Bump the rabbit boarded the ferry to Misfit Island last week. He had a wild time this summer and fall, and seemed to be doing well this winter. He probably ate something that poisoned him, because he looked good and had no injuries. His body was resting in one of his favorite hangouts, a spot sheltered from the rain but which catches the afternoon winter sun.
Bump was laid to rest in the fork of a tree. I considered burying him, but decided that it would be more in harmony with his freedom for him to feed the crows and jays. Bump will remain free, flying with the wild birds.
Blanche and the Blue Sisters
Turkeys can be a nuisance. Blanche and the Blue Sisters, the female turkeys, have decided that roosting in the rafters of the barn is a good idea. The amount of crap that a turkey can deposit overnight makes me think it is a terrible idea. They were doing fine on the roosts I built for them in the goat shed attached to the barn. So begins the process of teaching those turkeys where to sleep.
Broad Breasted Whites, the breed raised by the millions, might be stupid. Heritage turkeys are anything but stupid but it sure can be hard to communicate with them. Once communication is established, there remains the problem of convincing them that following any suggestions that might have been communicated is in their interest. Is stubbornness really an animal trait? If so, then heritage turkeys have it.
If I time it perfectly, and all the poultry cooperate, I can shut the barn door before the turkeys roost for the night. Before I shut the door the young ducks and their mother must be inside, along with Ting and the bantam chickens. Claudius and the Drusillas, the bantams, are easy because they tend to go to their roost above the door by about 4:00 pm at this time of the year. Ting is usually following me around trying to peck me so it is no problem to trap her in the barn. The young ducks and their mother, though, are a bit more problematic.
The young ducks could stay in the goat shed for the rest of the winter without any problem. Most of their adult feathers are in and they like to swim in ice water, so I think they are tough enough. Their mother, though, is laying eggs again and I prefer that she lay them in the barn. At this time of the year duck eggs are delicious.
They probably have fairly high cholesterol content but I figure that just going out to feed and water the ducks twice a day is enough exercise to make up for occasionally eating one. They have big yolks, rich with a flavor similar to chicken eggs but more complex and delicate and with a gentle finish. A soft-boiled duck egg dropped on a slice of home-made multi-grain bread covered with home-made butter is a great way to start a day. Oh, it needs a glorious sunrise, too.
Preferably, a sunrise that occurs without turkeys roosting in the barn rafters. This week they managed to sneak in four out of seven nights, a statistic which can too easily be used to challenge my intelligence.
I want those turkeys to stay in the goat shed and to lay their eggs there. And, I would like for Guy, their great lover-boy, to stay with them.
Watching Guy chase Trusty the dog is amusing for a while but becomes tiresome after a while. Even worse, Guy is beginning to attack strange humans, which, for Guy, means everyone but me. His pecks can be painful and his attempts to plant his spurs are both painful and frightening.
A turkey fancier found an effective tom turkey training tool: the common leaf rake, the kind with lots of long, springy tines. When you lightly whap a tom turkey on the butt with a leaf rake the rattling of the tines seems to make some sort of impression. I've never had any real reason to whap a hen, they are fairly easy to get along with. Guy is now at the age where he is feeling his hormones and can't figure out what he's supposed to do about it.
What that boy needs is something to hump. Male turkeys like to climb up on a low mound and do a foot pounding routine; a turkey corollary to an activity more commonly associated with adolescent males of our own species. I hope he can find a friendly mound to enjoy out in the pasture. If so, will Blanche and the Blue Sisters stay out there with him? Probably. Turkey hens seem to be amused by the antics of the toms.
Writing is Dangerous
Last week I made some mildly derogatory comment about architects. The main reason I made the remark is that I wanted to poke some fun at my daughter-in-law, brother-in-law, and brother, all architects. This is a response I received, only slightly edited to change meaning:
I know who wrote this, and changed her name to protect her guilt. I spent ten difficult years serving on the local school board. I will consider architecture a decent profession only after they purge themselves of all practitioners who would put a flat roof over the school library in Kansas.
At one point while I was serving on the school board the library roof was leaking over every school library in the county. It was at that point that I began to suspect that architecture might be a profession tainted with evil.
Then, after we completed a multi-million dollar addition to the school, we learned that two of the classrooms had such severe ventilation problems that they were unusable. I ask you, am I not justified in being suspicious of architects?
Speaking of architecture, I once attended a convention in the New Orleans Convention Center. When I first stepped into the men's room there I stopped, startled, staring down a room perhaps 50 yards long lined with men's urinals, and realized I was seeing more urinals than are to be found in total in Jefferson County. Whether or not that has anything to do with distrusting architects I'll let the reader decide.
Happy New Year
The best thing about this holiday is that it signals the end of the holiday season. I managed to succeed in my New Year's resolution for 2005. For the first time in several years I went through the entire year without being subjected to hearing Little Drummer Boy. My son and and I have made the resolution every year for at least a decade, that we shall strive to make it through the coming year without hearing that horrid piece of music.
Bump Boards the Ferry
A group of turkey fanciers have created Misfit Island, the place where pets go when they die. Bump the rabbit boarded the ferry to Misfit Island last week. He had a wild time this summer and fall, and seemed to be doing well this winter. He probably ate something that poisoned him, because he looked good and had no injuries. His body was resting in one of his favorite hangouts, a spot sheltered from the rain but which catches the afternoon winter sun.
Bump was laid to rest in the fork of a tree. I considered burying him, but decided that it would be more in harmony with his freedom for him to feed the crows and jays. Bump will remain free, flying with the wild birds.
Blanche and the Blue Sisters
Turkeys can be a nuisance. Blanche and the Blue Sisters, the female turkeys, have decided that roosting in the rafters of the barn is a good idea. The amount of crap that a turkey can deposit overnight makes me think it is a terrible idea. They were doing fine on the roosts I built for them in the goat shed attached to the barn. So begins the process of teaching those turkeys where to sleep.
Broad Breasted Whites, the breed raised by the millions, might be stupid. Heritage turkeys are anything but stupid but it sure can be hard to communicate with them. Once communication is established, there remains the problem of convincing them that following any suggestions that might have been communicated is in their interest. Is stubbornness really an animal trait? If so, then heritage turkeys have it.
If I time it perfectly, and all the poultry cooperate, I can shut the barn door before the turkeys roost for the night. Before I shut the door the young ducks and their mother must be inside, along with Ting and the bantam chickens. Claudius and the Drusillas, the bantams, are easy because they tend to go to their roost above the door by about 4:00 pm at this time of the year. Ting is usually following me around trying to peck me so it is no problem to trap her in the barn. The young ducks and their mother, though, are a bit more problematic.
The young ducks could stay in the goat shed for the rest of the winter without any problem. Most of their adult feathers are in and they like to swim in ice water, so I think they are tough enough. Their mother, though, is laying eggs again and I prefer that she lay them in the barn. At this time of the year duck eggs are delicious.
They probably have fairly high cholesterol content but I figure that just going out to feed and water the ducks twice a day is enough exercise to make up for occasionally eating one. They have big yolks, rich with a flavor similar to chicken eggs but more complex and delicate and with a gentle finish. A soft-boiled duck egg dropped on a slice of home-made multi-grain bread covered with home-made butter is a great way to start a day. Oh, it needs a glorious sunrise, too.
Preferably, a sunrise that occurs without turkeys roosting in the barn rafters. This week they managed to sneak in four out of seven nights, a statistic which can too easily be used to challenge my intelligence.
I want those turkeys to stay in the goat shed and to lay their eggs there. And, I would like for Guy, their great lover-boy, to stay with them.
Watching Guy chase Trusty the dog is amusing for a while but becomes tiresome after a while. Even worse, Guy is beginning to attack strange humans, which, for Guy, means everyone but me. His pecks can be painful and his attempts to plant his spurs are both painful and frightening.
A turkey fancier found an effective tom turkey training tool: the common leaf rake, the kind with lots of long, springy tines. When you lightly whap a tom turkey on the butt with a leaf rake the rattling of the tines seems to make some sort of impression. I've never had any real reason to whap a hen, they are fairly easy to get along with. Guy is now at the age where he is feeling his hormones and can't figure out what he's supposed to do about it.
What that boy needs is something to hump. Male turkeys like to climb up on a low mound and do a foot pounding routine; a turkey corollary to an activity more commonly associated with adolescent males of our own species. I hope he can find a friendly mound to enjoy out in the pasture. If so, will Blanche and the Blue Sisters stay out there with him? Probably. Turkey hens seem to be amused by the antics of the toms.
Writing is Dangerous
Last week I made some mildly derogatory comment about architects. The main reason I made the remark is that I wanted to poke some fun at my daughter-in-law, brother-in-law, and brother, all architects. This is a response I received, only slightly edited to change meaning:
That was all very interesting but I must take exceptionto the references to ‘architecture covering the design of [bad] professional offices.’ It isn’t that architects don’t design professional offices most of the time those offices are “not designed” by CONTRACTORS or interior designers.
The Exotic Victorian, Ph.D., A.I.A.
I know who wrote this, and changed her name to protect her guilt. I spent ten difficult years serving on the local school board. I will consider architecture a decent profession only after they purge themselves of all practitioners who would put a flat roof over the school library in Kansas.
At one point while I was serving on the school board the library roof was leaking over every school library in the county. It was at that point that I began to suspect that architecture might be a profession tainted with evil.
Then, after we completed a multi-million dollar addition to the school, we learned that two of the classrooms had such severe ventilation problems that they were unusable. I ask you, am I not justified in being suspicious of architects?
Speaking of architecture, I once attended a convention in the New Orleans Convention Center. When I first stepped into the men's room there I stopped, startled, staring down a room perhaps 50 yards long lined with men's urinals, and realized I was seeing more urinals than are to be found in total in Jefferson County. Whether or not that has anything to do with distrusting architects I'll let the reader decide.
posted by The Geezer at 9:06 AM
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