Turkey Eggs

I am reading about whether or not people eat turkey eggs. I am not sure if I would eat an egg the size of a fist, but maybe. OR, how cool would it be to have the egg fertilized and then we could hatch our OWN baby turkeys???

You realize I know nothing about poultry. Not even how to get an egg to have a baby in it. It is going to be a fabulously educational year.

The true meaning of "Vacay"

We are on vacation this week - truly. No jobs (mostly, I should bury my blackberry in the sand), no mail, no interruptions, no laundry, and no animals. I have been struggling with this break, actually, as I now consider my animals to be the foundation of my personal day - of course my children take precedence and root me in reality. But when I am milking my goat, rolling around in the hay with the two kids, and kissing Ruby's soft nose, I know how damned lucky I am to have this life. I am blessed with a husband who will support this madness and constant animal acquisition, children who love to muck out the barn and all the animals, and friends that I have met through being a part of this barn.

Being able to stay in bed with Eliot and Sophia and watch Sesame Street or play the snoring game instead of going to milk and feed the goats is a nice nice nice break, though. The woman I bought the goats from told me that one really can't prepare for how to take care of them, you just do it. And this is true - entirely. There is a lot of juggling of time, fear, pleasure, dedication and tons of milk to deal with. But what I didn't bargain for or even have an inkling about is how much closer I am to nature. I am so proud that my family drinks the milk that Phoenix provides, eats the cheese, and has no complaints.

On our way to Delaware, we were absolutely starving and broke down to get a quick fix at Taco Bell. I have always had a soft spot for Taco Bell as it was my first employer, but I know what goes into that crap so shame on me for giving in and ordering a 7-layer burrito. In the middle of the meal (driving), I tasted the shit that I was eating. Plastic flavored crap. Why? I have gotten used to eating the local beef from Deer Creek Meadow and Level Beef Farms, fresh eggs (until my babes start laying!) from Andy's Eggs, all fresh veggies from our CSA share at Harman's. I have been spoiled.

We ran out of my saved goats milk two days into the trip, and I have been debating whether or not to give in and get pasteurized water milk from the store to keep the kiddos happy. I am going to wait to see if any meltdowns occur before I give in.

I am one lucky lady, I know. And I can't wait to get back to all my animals. We should have turkeys in that mix by this weekend!

Sneaky Like a Fox

The start of our weekend began with the realization that we lost 9 chickens during a midnight fox raid of the coop. I was surprised by how devastated I felt when I learned of the massacre, and was thankful I was not the one who discovered the poor chickens.

In response to this murder scene at the farm, my Poultry Partner in Crime and I double-layered electric fencing around our coop, electrocuting ourselves in the process. Okay, it was my big bootie that accidentally bumped into the live wire fence behind the coop and wound up sending the current from my ass to Poor Leigh. It was pretty darn hysterical though, once we recovered from from the buzzing heat coarsing through our bodies. I am fairly certain I also transferred the electric to one of the goats as well, but they act so goofy anyway its hard to determine the root of the freak out.

Earlier this week, we ordered 20 turkey chicks that will arrive on June 28th! We intend to raise them organically and share with friends and family for the holidays. Should be interesting.

In light of our reduced flock, I have decided we should replace the fallen with a rare assortment of "Rainbow Egg Layers" soon!

Surprise!

When I arrived at the barn this morning I knew something was wrong with Phoenix because she continued to lay on the ground despite hearing the grain scooping. When I was able to get her up, she was favoring her right hind leg, and her hoof was bleeding.

So what was meant to be a quick milking trip turned into an epsom salt bath foot soak (read: Me body-pinning a 160 lb goat and wrestling her foot into the soak bucket) and then digging through all my tack room crap to find my bandages. I have no idea if my intervention will help, but please, please let me have a vet bill break for a month.

I will be going right after work to soak her foot again. I sure wish someone would wrestle me into an epsom salt bath.

Forget Me Not

On the way home from picking up Sophia this evening, we stopped at Harman's Farm. Luckily, the pick-your-own strawberries is still happening, so we waded through some big ol' muddy puddles down the neat rows of gorgeous strawberries.

I have to admit, Sophia and I hunkered down and indulged in a few strawberry samples. Its totally nerdy to say that I literally could taste sunshine in the strawberries. But I think we did. We are pretty stinking lucky to live so close to someplace like Harman's so we can eat such fresh fruits and vegetables.

I was in Minneapolis earlier this week, and had an overnight break from milking Phoenix and fending off the affectionate baby goats. I missed them. I missed all my kids, although my human kids are usually okay as long as I have promised to return from a business trip with candy. I missed my husband and my Havre de Grace.

I missed my routine!

This morning I was still struggling with gaining control over my schedule again, and at 9:30 AM I shouted at Kevin OH MY GOD HONEY I FORGOT TO MILK PHOENIX!! I was just chugging along at my laptop, drinking coffee in my pajamas, when WOW, was hit with that reality. I mean, really? How in the heck did I FORGET to milk an animal that turns into a monster with a goose's squawk when not milked every 12 hours?

Luckily, it was only 13 hours and she was pissed about my lapse, but healthy. The benefit of this scheduling snafu was that I got to learn how to chase chickens back into the barn with only a broom. A story for another post.

morning at the barn

Early rising children interrupted my barn plan at 6AM this morning, which meant that I was going to go straight to work FROM the barn. The traffic God was smiling on me this morning because for a rainy morning, there was hardly a snarl in the journey! The kids and Phoenix were a lot of fun to hang out with as they were penned up all night in the stall and entertained by the buttons on my jacket.

Starting the day this way brings me such happiness, which I realize is rather odd. I get to spend so much more time with the human kids before work as well as love all over my goat and goat kids and Ruby before I enter the chaos of the day.

LETS GO, LETS GO!

Last night, I took Sophia to the barn with me to take care of our goats, despite the rain.

That child thinks that rain means that she gets to have even MORE fun at the barn because she can get even dirtier! She wore black tights, her "ballerina" pink dress, and her ladybug raincoat and pink boots. It was hard not to splash in the mud puddles with her becuase she really was having a blast.

While Sophia was splishing and splashing, I was half-heartedly chasing down a sopping wet goat to milk, while trying to ignore the bleating calls for love/food from the stall wherein the BAYBAY Goats lay dry and warm.

LETS GO PHOENIX! LETS GO! Phoenix doesn't usually run from me, but she seemed to have an idea that I had grain for BAYBAY Goats as well as for her. I could see her brain scheming to heck, why not try to make me fall down into the mud so she could eat the grain without the bother of getting in the milking stand??

After remembering that Phoenix would ultimately follow me out to the milking stand since I did indeed still hold the grain (DUH), LETS GO, I marched out of the paddock with her close at my heels.

Once I got her head locked into the stand and her udders completely sanitized, I realized, of course, I didn't have my dang milking bucket!!! I remembered that I had a glass milk container in the tack room, so I ran around like a mad woman trying to get into the room and back out before Phoenix finished her grain. Once she finishes eating, she starts kicking like crazy to get me off her udders. And it is not pretty or fun, and I am totally out of bribing peppermints.

In order to use the glass bottle as a container, I literally milked one udder at a time aiming (most) of the milk into the bottle. This alone was making me laugh until it started raining, pouring actually, and then I was starting to sound a little hysterical. Sophia abandoned me for the drier option of the baby chicks stall.

I finally got Phoenix all milked out and we both bolted for the barn, completely soaked. I dumped some of the milk into a container for the chicks, and then started the begging to my daughter to LETS GO LETS GO so we could start our journey home.

LETS GO LETS GO in Sophia's mind means saying goodbye to and touching each one of her favorite animals (Stanley the Megahorse, RubyRube, CandyCandyWhyYouBuggin', Chilly Willy, all three goats, and about 14 out of the 30 chicks). I actually enjoy this part of the night because I too get to love on all these awesome animals that make our lives pretty darn special.

LETS GO LETS GO LETS GO - finally headed home, we sang "Need You Now" and "Forever Young." I got out of the car to unsnap Sophia from the car seat, and I dropped the glass bottle of milk onto the driveway and of course it went UNDER my car!

Fabulous! Not only was I now without the stinkin' milk I carefully got into the bottle one udder at a time, but now there were GLASS SHARDS all over my driveway.

My lovely husband did come out to help me clean up the damage IN THE RAIN no less, so I couldn't really complain.

This morning, more rain.

Phoenix and the BAYBAY goats were in the stall overnight to avoid getting wet, so the routine went quickly. I actually remembered my milking bucket but forgot to bring plastic wrap to put over the top so that the milk wouldn't slosh out from under the lid when I was driving.

Got the milk home, only wearing half of it all over my jacket.

Live and learn, Devine.

Baby chicks gobbling up the goats milk. =)

More GOAT

Baby Bluebirds

Bluebirds just hatched in the neighbor's birdhouse. Awesome!

Cheese, Not.

This weekend was the first time I was to unveil my cheese at a party in my neighborhood.

Live and learn, Devine:

Apparently, Chevre culture (or whatever it is called) dies after a certain amount of time. Therefore, I had nothing to work with minus a clump or two of overachieving molecules.

I will admit that I almost caved and purchased factory made goat cheese to hide my failure, but my sweaty palms in the store were an obvious sign that I couldn't pull off the lie without incessant giggling (which would only add to my usual weirdness) and sweating.

I finally just returned the cheese back to its rightful shelf and accepted my cheesy defeat.

And really...So WHAT if the whole neighborhood thinks that my insanity is a reality now that I can't even produce anything edible to support my boring-ass goat stories??

Oh, and they do think I am nuts. If only for purchasing a home in our "low maintenance lifestyle" and "exclusive" community when we probably should have bought a freaking farm to maintain all of the animals I keep adding to the family. But I could see it in their eyes when they asked me about how my riding was going, which led into the goats, and eventually into the tons of baby chicks I am sharing with The Fearless Barn Owner. You know, your average cup o' crazy!

Thus far, I have been milking twice a day. The amount our mama Phoenix has been producing is impressive - I am getting about a gallon a day! We drink some, freeze some, share some with Tank the three-legged-dog, and maybe if the stars are aligned and I click my heels three times, make some amazing cheese. I just wish I could manage my entire Goat Milk Game Plan a little better so I didn't have to "waste" so much milk. The barn cats and baby chicks are enjoying their portions, though, and there is something peaceful about that aspect.

City Mouse, Country Mouse

In the Summer of 2008, our family made the lifesyle-altering decision to move from Baltimore City to Havre de Grace, MD.

The ways in which our family and life has blossomed since this move is far beyond even what I could ever have hoped. We are truly lucky to be here.

Havre de Grace has the benefit of not being a suburb of Baltimore. This lovely harbor stands tall on its as true Maryland country and farm land. It should not have been a surprise when almost immediately after we moved here, I stumbled upon an opportunity to rekindle my teenage dreams of hanging around a barn with lots of horses.

This introduction came by way of my babysitter. Upon her first assignment with us, she announced that her parents had purchased a horse for her that same day. Well, of course I had to go and see the horse. Duh.

From the first whiff of hay and livetocky smells after entering the gate at The Barn, I knew I was going to have my own horse. I had no idea how but I knew I would. And soon enough, I wedged myself into The Barn's family, incorporating horses into the already full mix of two amazing and incredibly young children, my (fabulous) marriage, work, laundry x4, and a crappy car.

The Time Had Come.

And looking back, that was the moment I finally gave into some of my inner crazy.

When I was a teen, I volunteered at a local 4-H club in St. Petersburg that provided equine therapy classes for handicapped teens. I would do anything the club asked me to do to help prepare for the class, just so I could smell the horses and maybe have the chance to walk the horse around to warm up before the therapy class would begin. On the ride home from the stable I would secretly sniff my hand and inhale the last scents of the horse I tended to that morning, and try not to wash that hand all day. I would ride my ten speed to middle school and pretend it was my horse, and daydream about flying down Tyrone Boulevard on my white stallion, showing those mean girls who was cool. I read about horses, cleaned up after horses, and became possessed with the need to tell everyone about my obsession. In my high school years, there was a brief stint with illegal entries into a small local rodeo...but really, that had zilch to do with horses and mostly to do with stupid teenage bravado. But it still involved horses, and cowboys. Cowboys that had horses.

So after meeting my babysitter's horse many years later, I hatched The Equine Plan.

First, I signed up for English riding lessons, strutting around in my half-chaps as if I knew what I was doing. Next I partially leased one of the farm's beginner horses and tried to figure out how to ride and raise a family. (I still haven't really figured this out to this day) There were many bumps and loads of patience from one of the kindest men on earth, my husband. Later came a fully-leased horse named Hero that broke my heart in more complicated ways than I could ever express adequately.

Which brings me to my current equine partner, Ruby in the Rough (or "Ruby Rube" as my daughter calls her). Ruby is an absolute nice fit for me physically, and she matches my freckles. She is a sweet animal, and although it took some time to iron out our differences, I am enjoying her partnership.

Of course I couldn't leave that harmony alone. Its never been my style to just let things be. No - whenever things are going great, I have this insatiable need to kick it up a few notches to the What IF category. One awful rainy January afternoon, I randomly picked up a book about goats in my local library and became overwhelmed with the desire to raise dairy goats alongside Ruby Rube.

4 months later, my trainer (friend, barn maven, and fearless animal leader) hitched the trailer to her Blazer one April morning, and we were off to pick up a grown milker goat named Phoenix and two goat kids (one doe kids named La Reina and a wether boy kid named Pie Dude).

First thing I noticed is how incredibly vocal my new friends were. I was sure we somehow accidentally packed in a preschool classroom into the trailer with the goats. It was a cacophony of octaves like I have never heard. And later that afternoon, I learned how incredibly entertaining these noisy goats were. Goat kids are hands down the most entertaining mammals EVER.

The new adventures have begun.