Farm News 05-28-06

Sunday morning, after chores, 79°

Flowers
The Sweet Rocket, Hesperis matronalis, has been blooming for over a month. It smells good, lasts well when cut, and comes back every year stronger than before. Give it room to spread its seeds.

Here, it is growing well in the full sun of the garden. Along the highways, though, it is usually found growing along the far ditch bank on the south side of the road. That says it is tough: it can grow where there is no winter sun and intense summer sun.

The orange Poppies, Papaver orientalis, are blooming. They will naturalize, that is, grow and prosper, in the wild here. There are lots of Poppies, but these are the ones we think of first when we think of Poppies.

The Opium Poppy, Papaver somnifera, will grow here, too, but it is an annual and has to be replanted every year. The Oriental Poppy is a tough perennial that comes up every year, year after year. Sap, or opium, from the Oriental Poppy doesn't come close to the Opium Poppy in strength, but it is potent enough to reduce the discomfort of menstrual cramps and lower back injuries.

The Catalpa trees, Catalpa bignonoides, are blooming. Catalpas make decent firewood, so-so fence posts, and nice flowers. When we moved here I planted one and now there are six or seven of its offspring, also.


Incubation

The Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis), nest in the Smoke tree (Cotinus obovatus, syn. Rhus cotinoides) still had only one baby on Monday. The next question is, “Is it a baby Cardinal or a baby Cowbird?” Cowbirds, Molothrus ater I think, lay their eggs in other birds' nests and then push out the others' eggs.


Last year, when I found the nest of a Cardinal there were four Cowbird eggs in it. Being gullible, I thought the chicks that hatched were Cardinal chicks, even though they were four days late. Two more weeks passed before I realized that the chicks were the wrong color to be Cardinals.

The nest this year has only one baby, and it is just above eye level, so I can't see it unless I use a ladder or a mirror. Laziness has prevented me from using either of those methods until now, but I was becoming curious and wanted to see this baby. On Friday I finally stood on a chair where I could see into the nest.

Surprise! There are two babies in the nest. They both look like Cowbirds to me.

Monday morning, the brown hen duck left her nest for an hour or so, the longest I have ever seen her away. I gave her some grain and fresh water, both of which she appreciated. Her eggs looked clean and healthy. I didn't touch or disturb them. This, by the way, is the duck setting under a low-growing Pine tree near the barn. Her nest, hidden by a branch that sweeps the ground at its tip, is difficult to find, even when the seeker knows where to find it.

Saturday evening I walked by the tree and spotted an egg shell near the nest. Under the tree were some more egg shells, each with the large end neatly chipped away so the baby duck could get out.

The babies will stay under their mother for a day or two before they decide to explore the world. Unlike little mammals, birds usually rest for a day or two before they start eating. When they're ready they will start hunting for food and momma will follow along. Wild baby ducks seem to follow their mothers but domestic baby ducks lead their mothers around.

Another duck, a young black duck, is also setting somewhere. She shows up for evening feeding, so I know she is still alive, but she is missing for the rest of the day.

Drusilla Westwall, the oldest and smallest of the Golden Sebright bantam hens, is now in her second week on the nest, I think. She has a big pile of eggs but she seems to be covering them, barely.

An Oriole nest hangs from the Honey Locust, Gleditsia triacanthos, above the chicken yard. It is a nice little purse woven from grass with small feathers sticking out around the top.

By the way, some readers have asked me why I use all the Latin names. Honey Locust, Gleditsia triacanthos, and Black Locust, Robinia pseudoacacia, are very different trees, although their leaves are somewhat similar. In some areas of Kansas, Honey Locust is the name given to Robinia pseudoacacia, and Black Locust is the common name of Gleditsia triacanthos. Some wise man once said, “When possible, be precise.”

Do birds sit or set on eggs? The Farm's consulting linguist provided this answer:

set (vb).
seat, sit. Verb transitive: place in a sitting posture; cause to occupy a seat; seat.
b) Put (a hen bird) to sit on eggs.

So apparently the bird sits on the eggs, but you set the bird to sit on the eggs.

That answer sits uncomfortably in the mind for quite a while before settling into a sensible rule.

Dr. M.: Gardening in a new home

A new home and a new yard present all sorts of possibilities to the novice gardener. To date, garden tools and lawn equipment has been bought, and plans have been laid.

First step is to weed the existing beds. It’s been raining buckets here, so weeding has been easy this week. Weeding also gives a good view of what might go where. Which beds are easily accessible? Which ones are by the road or cars? Where can the herb garden go? How can I use what is already present and beautify that?

As I burrow through the basement and unpack boxes, I find the garden drawing me. The boxes must be bad, I mow the lawn for entertainment.

As of right now, I have planted basil, cilantro and oregano in my burgeoning herb garden. The rest of the beds (all small) got wildflowers. I am going to be gone this summer, and so my husband needs something cheerful and easy to care for. However, thoughts about tulips and irises are percolating for the fall. In the northeast, the tulip population is inversely proportional to the population of the hooved overgrown rats (white-tail deer Odocoileus virginianus). I think the deer population is mostly controlled by the 4 lane highway that is the far border of my suburban neighborhood. All the plants (the people too) do better with fewer deer.

The garden will take time to develop, but I won’t see most of it this summer. In two weeks, I will go to Officer Basic Course, to start repaying Uncle Sam for my scholarship to vet school. I doubt they will teach me to tend a garden, but, I will learn to use a sidearm, also a useful skill.

Dr. M/Capt. Pfannenstiel

Thanks, Dr. M. Wow, off to Officers' Basic. I hope you will be able to send us some reports. Imagining you going through basic training will be a lot more fun than actually doing it. Also, I'm glad to see you have been promoted to Captain, ma'am.

Dr. M., have you considered volunteering for jump school after basic? If I suddenly needed heart surgery, you could take any westbound plane and, when over Kansas, jump out, parachute to the ground, and then, with your steady, skillful hands, save my life. It would make a hell of an addition to your resume.


Ting Chronicles[3]

Ting's infatuation with Guy Noir continues unabated. She can usually be found within ten feet of Guy, standing around looking off into space. Guy, seemingly unaware of her existence, struts for an hour or so, and then masturbates. After that, he begins strutting again. Only a few creatures are of sufficient interest to interrupt his routine, humans and dogs being at the top of the very short list. If he sees a human or dog he will attempt to peck it, sink his spurs into it, hit it with his wings, and drive it from his territory. Nothing else is worth noting, for Guy.

Guy's masturbation, along with a few dozen spam mails I have received this week about ring tones, led me to think of a possible money-maker. When Guy ejaculates, or whatever it is that he does when he masturbates, a very nasty sounding squishy sort of noise emanates from his vent area, that is, his back end. Well, why not offer that for sale as a ring tone?

If we get right on it, could this result in a Thanksgiving Day event in which thousands of Americans call family members, and all of the family members, when their cell phones ring, will hear the sound of a tom turkeys in ecstasy.

Ting has completely abandoned her nest. Some of her eggs are in the incubator but if they hatch the chicks will be motherless, probably a good thing considering Ting's character. The question that was asked at the beginning of Ting's confinement is is still unanswered. Why am I trying to hatch any of Ting's eggs?

Actually, the question of why seems to be moot; Ting's eggs aren't hatching. Apparently, it is going to take a lot of beer before a rooster will find Ting desirable for mating. 'Fro, being almost as phony as Ting, will probably demand wine instead of beer. MD 20/20 would be his kind of drink, especially if I spike it with a bit of extra grain alcohol. Ting will want martinis in a stemmed glass, and several of them, before she is going to see anything sexy in a phony rooster with a large bald patch on his head.

“Ah, Ting, mon petite chou, voulez vous couchez avec moi?”

No. That is just too ridiculous. There will be no alcohol served to the poultry.

Farm News 05-21-06

Sunday morning, after chores, 68°

Flowers

The Russian Olives, Eleaegnus angustifolia, are blooming. They sure smell good. And, the Mock Orange, probably Philadelphus coronarius, is about to bloom.

The Russian Olives need to be spread out around the place, more. At the moment they are all together at the parking end of the drive. If two or three grew by the pond, another two or three at the southeast corner of the lawn, and several clumps along the west fence line, this place would have more fragrance at this time of the year.

Silverberry, E. commutata, is native to this area and also is fragrant. There used to be one in the woods but it was lost when the new highway took all the trees between the yard and the road. I found that tree by following the fragrance one year.

The west fence line is a good place for plants that can tolerate dry conditions. The highest point is on the west fence line and the soil is porous. Both Russian Olive and Mock Orange are good plants to consider for dry conditions.

At sunset on a nice day, all winds stop. The air is quiet, and the scent of the Russian Olives flows out upon us.

Incubation

Drusilla is now taking her babies outdoors. Her favorite place to spend the day is the rabbitry, which is exactly where I would like for her to spend the day.

Blanche turkey spent Wednesday night on her nest, her first night. Sometime during the night something grabbed her and hauled her away, probably a coyote. That leaves two turkeys, Guy, who is mean, and Blue, who is busy incubating her eggs. I think I'll give up on turkeys and butcher Guy as soon as practical.

A Cardinal hen (Cardinalis cardinalis) has a nest west of the house. Saturday evening I reached up to it and felt what I thought was a baby bird and two unhatched eggs. Last week there were three eggs in the nest.


A Bluejay and a Dove both appear to have nests in a Cedar tree directly in front of the living room window. The tree is just far enough away to be able to focus on it with the spotting scope.


The brown duck hen is still on her nest. She should hatch something soon. Bebe goose is also still on her nest, even though there have not been any eggs there for weeks. Se is definitely persistent.

A second Drusilla has a nest in the barn and started setting Thursday.

Ting Chronicles[2]

Ting's personality almost conceals her physical features. Ting is a dumb, dishonest, self-centered individual, completely free of any inhibitions erected by a conscience. Sociopathic humans are often pleasant when you first meet them. Ting is sociopathic, but never seems pleasant.

Ting's vocabulary lacks words for please, thank you, excuse me, and where is the restroom. Despite having wings instead of hands she is able to display an upraised middle finger at any time. She hates goats, dogs, humans, cats, turkeys, geese, ducks, other chickens, rabbits, and Jack, the black snake.

If she makes any distinctions between truth and fabrication, it is to have preference for fabrication. This week, for instance, she has been spending most of her days with Guy Noir, the tom turkey. As they are probably the two most obtuse examples of their species that one might find, it should be easy to find some sort of rationalization for their apparently amicable relationship.

Civilized humans, though, are, fortunately, severely limited in their capacity to understand the sort of self-centered individual that can be found in the living descendants of Tyrannosaurus rex. (Yes, science suggests that birds are the descendants of the Tyrannosaurs.)

Tom domestic turkeys have an interesting approach to sex. From long before the beginning of mating season to long after they display and masturbate. Remember: think Tyrannosaurs. Tom turkeys seem to place expend more energy attempting to enhance the perception of their studliness than they do to siring offspring. They make no attempt to mate unless the object of their desire is squatting on the ground, ready to be trampled.

When toms masturbate, they stamp their feet on the ground rhythmically and with increasing tempo until they finally squat, stop stamping, and make a lot of disgusting squishy sounds with their vents. It seems to solve their problem for a few minutes. They prefer to do this atop rounded objects such as anthills, inverted wash pans, or, luckily, a squatting hen turkey, but they will settle for flat ground if nothing more rounded is immediately available.

Ting has stated, emphatically, “I do not squat!”

That seems to establish that her relationship with Guy is 'platonic', a problematic situation as an independent observer would have great difficulty finding anything platonic in the characters of Guy and Ting. These opinions lead to considering the possibility that the relationship is neither romantic nor platonic, but is conspiratorial.

Guy would be on death row, except there is no pressing reason to incarcerate him. He is too dumb to leave the place where he is under a death sentence and go somewhere else. So, in these last few weeks of his life, Guy has a cheap hooker mentality girl friend who he is unable to acknowledge because he is too busy displaying and masturbating.

Are we supposed to feel sorry for someone?


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Farm News 05-14-06

Sunday morning, after chores, 52°

Baby Goat

Sunday evening Peanut gave birth to a little boy goat. Although I have watched this process more times than I could estimate it is still fascinating. As Pinker points out in The Blank Slate, 'instincts' are not necessarily certain skills, but can also be a predisposition to learning certain skills. The new baby's instinct led him to put his head under horizontal things and, if something held his head down when he tried to raise it, to lift his nose and try sucking on something. From those two instincts, he quickly developed the ability to nurse.

The instincts are reflexive, no thinking is needed. Newborn ungulates will look for dark, horizontal boundaries in their visual area, most of them are born near-sighted and see only nearby boundaries, and try to put their heads under that boundary. If something holds down the head of a newborn ungulate it will tip its nose up and start sucking movements. If a teat comes into its mouth as a result of that series of behaviors, it will remember the sequence and start evolving it into optimal feeding behavior.

Incubation

On Sunday Drusilla hatched six tiny chicks. Three of them seem to have been sired by 'Fro and the other three by Claudius. 'Fro is a Crested Polish rooster and Claudius is a Golden Sebright bantam, as is Drusilla. I'll sell the three sired by 'Fro, probably for a good price, and keep the other three until I can decide if any of them are worth adding to the flock.

Ting spends most nights on her nest and most days stamping and growling, pretending she has a flock of chicks under her watchful eye. The few days during which she actually tried to incubate her eggs I began missing the constant attacks on my ankles at chore time.

Orioles

We have at least two and probably three male Baltimore Orioles this year whose territories all include some part of The Farm. The immediate observable effects, if I am interpreting them correctly, are interesting.

Each Spring, when the Orioles arrive, the males have very simple songs: usually one or two clear notes. As the season progresses their songs become increasingly complex so that, by the end of the summer, their songs consist of as many as fifteen notes. Birds in adjacent territories will have somewhat similar songs and, as far as I can tell, all Orioles share the same scale of notes.

This year the main Oriole, the one with a nest over the chicken yard, is already singing a fairly complex song of five notes, as are his neighbors. This is a much more rapid increase in complexity than I have seen in the past. Usually, it would be June or even July before his song would reach this level.

My hypothesis is that Orioles learn to sing from each other every year. They arrive with a very simple song and then, after listening to their neighbors, they all begin to modify their songs to increase the differences. The scale of notes used by Orioles seems to extend over only five or six notes. As they all use the same scale and there are few notes in the scale, they become tune-smiths.

Whatever the reason, I have never heard two Orioles sing the same song, nor have I ever heard the same Oriole sing the same song for more than two weeks.

Ting Chronicles

We all know Ting, I hope. Ting is a Crested Polish hen, the most unsightly member of that breed which one can imagine. She is a small chicken, slightly larger than a bantam, but, in profile, resembling a slender version of our mental image of 'chicken'. Her body plumage is 'gold-laced', which means her feathers are dark-golden colored in the center with a black, lacy, border. She has blue-gray legs and ears. Her crest consists of a set of, what, 'short hackles' (?), that cover her eyes. She is rose-combed. [Links courtesy of Ting Productions, Ltd.].


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Farm News 05-07-06

Sunday morning, after chores, 54°


Birds

Monday morning the Baltimore Oriole was whistling in the Honey Locust over the chicken yard. They seem to prefer the Honey Locust for their nest, a neat pouch that hangs from a twig. It looks like this male spent some time refurbishing the nest before it started whistling.

Some books list the Baltimore Oriole as a sub-species of the Northern Oriole. They are not closely related to the European Orioles, but, instead, are Icterids, the Blackbirds and their ilk. Orioles are nectar and fruit eaters. They will cut into a trumpet-vine flower at the base to obtain the nectar inside. The books say that they will feed on orange halves, but I have never been able to attract them to the feeder.

The hummingbirds are back. May 1st seems to be the day the hummers reappear. Now I need to clean and refill the feeders. What is in them now is probably fermented. The hummers may deserve a little buzz after flying back from Central America, but very much of that stuff can get them in trouble.

Incubation

The world's dumbest, ugliest, least truthful chicken will not become a mother except through the intervention of an incubator. Ting left her nest on Friday and spent the entire day that she was being followed by a flock of adoring chicks. Eight of her eggs, though, are in the incubator in my office. Somehow, helping Ting reproduce seems like an act of biological littering.

Ting had an email address, ting@geezernet.com, which she obtained by sending forged messages to my Internet Access Provider. PETE, the People for the Ethical Treatment of Electrons, yet another collection of single issue folks, objected to the address because Email to Ting constituted the forced movement of electrons without any discernible social value. Silly gazillion electrons are moved every microsecond to sell you Canadian pharmaceutical deals, why should Email to Ting be unethical?

Our local Internet Service Provider, a nice fellow but a rather timid sort, continually failed to connect Ting's address to the rest of the Internet under the pressures exerted by PETE. What the hell do you do about a situation like that? I've know this guy for over twenty five years, since he was twelve, and he caves in to some outfit like PETE. How does a modern radical justify dealing with the problems presented by organizations like PETE?

Why not? Do I have anything better to do?

That's one of the nice rewards for being a neo-radical. I can give answers like the above to difficult questions and still be considered sane.

In other incubation news, the brown hen duck is on her nest under the northern-most pine tree, and Drusilla, the Golden Sebright, is on her eggs in the loft of the barn. Saturday evening two of her chicks had hatched. Blue turkey is on her nest along the south wall of the barn. In the incubator there are turkey eggs and eggs from Ting.

The baby ducks in the barn no longer need heat at night. They could be turned out to range if they weren't so stupid.


Baby Goats!!!

Lucy goat had twins on Wednesday, a boy and a girl. Like most baby goats, they are just about the cutest things in the universe. The little male is light brown with a white star in the middle of his forehead. The female is dark brown. Both babies have white muzzles and ears.

They schedule photo opportunities up to a maximum of thirty hours per week. They travel nicely by first class, which they define as being held in someone's arms, talked to, and being stroked and admired. Goats are wonderfully adaptive creatures and instinctively find a way to thrive in most social and biological environments.

Marriage and Chicken Bones

Mrs. Dr. M., bless her, took time, during her second week of marriage,to write to us about dogs and chicken bones, an act which represents the kind of dedication I find in D.V.M. surgeons but not M.D. surgeons. When she promised me that she would perform any heart surgery I might require during the rest of my lifetime, she so reduced my anxiety that I might never again need heart surgery. But first, a letter from an unemployed reader:

A reader responds:

I have been feeding my dogs chicken bones for years. The two before this one died of old age. They all would get excited when we were finishing eating and ready to fling the remains out into the yard.

The only thing I have found that might possibly be a worry is that the current dog has a propensity to kill chickens. Some people think it is instinct, but I worry that it is because she likes to eat them. (I have reason to suspect that she does eat what she kills.) So, the question is, does she kill and eat chickens because I caused her to develop a taste for them?

Outside of that, my scientific brain says there isn't much difference between a chicken bone and the bones of dead birds or geese that she has drug into the yard for munching. You know, the "natural" stuff.

Yawnee Yukmore

Some readers have very strange online personae. 'Yawnee Yukmore'? Anyway, I doubt that feeding cooked meat of some species to a dog would then influence the dog to hunt for raw meat of the same species. Humans identify most things by sight. Dogs seem to identify most things by smell. If cooking meat alters the fundamental aromas, and I think it does, then a dog would not make any link between cooked beef and cattle. Actually, lots of herding dogs enjoy raw bones of the very animals they herd, but they never kill the animals themselves.

Dr. M. says,

Taking a moment out of marital bliss (we are packing the house) I shall set clear the guidelines on poultry bones in dogs:

Raw bones are ok. Cooked bones are not. The protein that holds the minerals together that makes the bones solid denatures (uncurls) in the cooking process.

Do not ever feed your dog cooked poultry or fowl bones. If you are going to feed raw bones, supervise them!

Dr. M.

Dr. M., I am very happy for you and wish you a joyful future. When you grow old and gray, you will be able to think back, and say to yourself, “I helped save a few dogs in my second week of marriage.” That will be pretty good stuff to think about when you are over 70.

Okay, is all this clear? Cooked poultry bones go to the landfill. All other bones go to the dogs and cats.


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