Enter chaos...

Today started out normally enough.  It was a chilly 5 degrees outside when I went to tend to the animals, but all was well.

 My first customer was due at 9:00. At 8:30 I was upstairs getting dressed and beating my hair into submission when I heard a very forceful banging on my door. I hustled down the steps and let my customer in, my hair asunder.  But then I got an early start on his dog, which was a good thing because at 9:00 a customer arrived who was not on my schedule.  He was happy to sit and have a cup of coffee and a brownie while I finished up dog #1, and I was only about 10 minutes behind, so all was well.  Got his dog done and my next dog arrived.  He is one that takes me two or more hours to do, so his owner dropped him off and I got him all handsome right on time.

My next customer of the day was a friend who used to work in a grooming shop, with two little dogs that belong to a relative.  I was looking forward to a pleasant visit with her, and I had a 15 minute  break before she came so I walked my dogs outside, took some hay to the hoof stock, checked on the rabbit, chickens and ducks, and even grabbed a snack for myself.  My friend arrived and we began chatting happily while I washed her first dog.  Then I noticed an unexpected car in the driveway and realized it was another customer that I did not have on my calendar. To make matters worse, they have two dogs.  My friend saw the look of horror on my face, and I explained that somehow I must have missed a page when I moving dates from my '15 calendar to the new one for this year.  She said, "We can do this. I'll help."  She strapped a bathing apron over her pretty outfit and in no time was drying her own dog while I washed the new-comers.  Just then, another car pulled in.  I was tempted to put a gun to my head.  I peered, in dry mouthed horror, to see who emerged.  To my great delight, it was my wonderful friend who was very, VERY kindly bringing my goat Ella home.

 Ella had spent a few delightful weeks at her farm.  We were hoping she would be bred by my friends buck, but alas, this didn't happen.  It is very cold, and I was worried about bringing Ella home in the back of my truck, so my kind friend tucked her into her warm station wagon and drove the long ride her to return her.  What a PAL! I was really happy to see my friend, but it still meant I had to pull my boots on, run outside and kiss my goat, then get her settled back into the pasture.   I noticed my friend had her little dog with her.  Desperate to repay her kindness, I offered to give it a bath while she ran some errands.  She agreed.  Add one more dog to the nuttiness.

 No sooner had I gotten back inside and working on a dog when my farriers truck swung up to the end of the driveway. For non-horse readers, the farrier is the wonderful, talented person who trims horses hooves and puts shoes on them (where applicable.)  I knew my farrier was coming sometime in the afternoon, and here, at the height of mayhem, while I was grooming as fast as I could and trying to keep everything together, he was.

Again, boots on, out to the pasture.  "Chanel!" I called.

Such a good pony, her head flew up and she trotted to the gate.  Thankfully she is an angel for the farrier, so I handed him his money and a brownie for a snack, and left him to his own devices.  I was able to finish grooming the four dogs, and visit with my friend a little more.  Since she had been so kind to help me with my scheduling error, I refused to let her pay for the haircuts on her pets.  I heaved a sigh of relief, a hectic spell had been managed, nicely, with her help.

I had a 10 minute break after she left. I tucked the poultry into their coops for the night, threw out a little more hay, and fed the dogs.  When my next two dogs arrived I was sad to see that they were both in hard shape.  They had been down south playing at a beach for the past few weeks, and their hair was very tangled.  What would normally take me 2 hours took almost 4... of challenging work.

But I managed it, tucked a roast in the oven, cleaned the studio, filled the hay racks for the night and came inside to do dog laundry and get into my fuzzy jammies.  It was a hectic day.  The muscles in my shoulders are hard as rocks. But the jobs were done and done well.  Hopefully the wench that messed up my schedule (me!) will not create such havoc in the future. At least, not in the near future.

Duck follies and other icy bird tales...

It snowed last night.  The ground is covered with about 2 inches of heavy, wet, white.  The chickens and ducks had enjoyed the past few days, because a heavy rain had washed all the old snow away and they were able to walk on bare ground. Walk they did, from dawn till dusk, all over the pasture.  But with the new snow, I knew they would stay close to their coops.

When I went out this morning I carried a snow shovel out to the duck area. I carefully scraped a space in front of their house to bare ground, then sprinkled a layer of hay around.  I filled their pan with warm water and set it near the hay, so they would have insulation for their feet from the cold ground while they enjoyed drinking and playing in their water. I topped off their food bowl, too.  Normally when there is snow they spend all their time in their hutch or just outside the door, where the food and water pans are.  I was pleased with how I had set everything up for their comfort. I applauded myself for being an excellent duck mom.

However, they were having none of it. They blasted past the area I had prepared, and quacking in loud protest they waddled out into the pasture. Their squatty bodies plowed through the unblemished snow.  They went to the area by the goat and pony shed, where they love to be when the ground is open.  However, once they got there they looked quite dismayed.  There was no pan of duck water, and no food to find on the snowy ground.

Since they spend the first part of most mornings eating and drinking their fill, I knew they must be hungry and thirsty.  There they stayed, however, looking forlorn.  One foot tucked up against their breast feathers to warm it, one in the snow, then switching to the other foot; it was a sad looking avian snow dance.  I kept checking on them, thinking they would wander back to their hutch where breakfast awaited, but they did not.  The flock of four was the very picture of desolation.

So, I geared up and went back out.  Luckily ducks are pretty easy to herd. I got them headed in the right direction and they made the long waddle back to their house, where they could eat and drink, and get out of the snow.  I think they were a little relieved once they got the idea.  They stayed put the rest of the day.

Meanwhile, outside my window, I saw this Mourning Dove, with a hefty chunk of ice dangling from her pretty tail.

I wonder where she slept, that water dripped on her and froze?  She didn't seem to notice the encumbrance.

I had to fill the wild bird feeder twice today; the air was full of the sound of wings as they zoomed in, ate, and zipped away again.  I am glad that some birds have the sense to stay where food is served during the cold and snowy winter days.

"Adventures in Cooking..."

One thing I hope to do this year is try new recipes. I am prone to getting into a bit of a rut when cooking.  In early December a sweet customer was here and ate a sugar cookie I had baked. We got on the topic of such treats and  she mentioned that she had an excellent recipe for short bread. I asked if she would share it, and sure enough, I found a sweet card in my mailbox a few days ago with a copy of the page from her cookbook. 

I thought I'd try a batch tonight. I keep a covered dish with baked treats out for my grooming customers to enjoy with a hot beverage.  One great thing about short bread is that it keeps well, so a batch would last me all week (if I could prevent myself from sampling the goodies too hard!)

The cookbook is actually titled, Adventures in Cooking,  For home and Country. It was published in 1958 by the British Columbia Woman's Institutes.  There are penciled annotations next to the recipe in question.  Some I can make out, some I cannot. But here is what it says, (readable pencil notes in parenthesis.)

1 large cup brown sugar (not combined)
3/4 lb. butter (1 lb.)
3 small cups flour (2008 try the original recipe 2 1/2 cups)

Beat butter until soft and fluffy, add sugar, beat again, work in flour by degrees.  Work well with hands, then knead on a floured board.  Shape into loaf, cut 1/4" thick, bake a few miniutes in a good oven. (350- 20 min.)

I scratched my head a bit over the "large cup" and "small cup" directions.  And I was happy to have the time and temperature noted as I hadn't a clue what  a "good oven," meant.  The penciled notes, changing the amount of flour and butter had me curious, too. I stuck with the recipe as it was printed by the Woman's Institutes. 

The dough was smooth and pleasant to work with. 

Creating 1/4 inch slices was a bit more difficult.

The end result?  Delicious.  Buttery, crisp and rich, with a flavor that suggests one should have just one more.  Or maybe two. 

Like a cork in a bottle...

I don't have a photograph to illustrate this story because time was of the essence, but I will try to draw a word picture for you. With help from real pictures.

A few days ago I shared a photo of one of my large Light Brahma hens in the tiny little coop that the wee Silky chicks live in.  She had gone in there to lay an egg, because apparently the nest boxes in her coop were inadequate.  So she had braved the ice and snow, hopped a 4 foot fence, and somehow managed to squeeze her large frame through the small door of the Silky palace.

This morning I saw her attempting to get into the Silky palace again.  She was not having much luck, and it was really rather comical to watch. I would have stayed to see how she managed to get in that small door, but it was something like 12 degrees out and I was beginning to lose sensation in my extremities so I went in the house instead.

This is a picture taken a few months ago. It shows the little door the hen was trying to access. Not only is it small, but it is sort of hour glass shaped. Even the diminutive Silky rooster has trouble getting in, and he is probably 2  pounds of bird covered in easily compressed fluff.

This picture is of one of the Light Brahma hens.  They are large chickens.  So large that the last time my horse veterinarian was here she said, "Holy Sh*t!  Those are some HUGE freaking chickens!"  I'd say they are 8 pounds or better.

It was around 7 AM when I saw "big bird" trying to get into the little coop.  A few minutes before 9 AM, and expecting my first customer at any moment, I happened to glance out the window.  Now, remember, it was quite cold outside.  I noticed that all the little Silky chickens were outside, and they were all looking rather longingly at the door to their coop.  It appeared that they wished they were inside, where there were dry shavings instead of snow and ice, protection from the wind, and an ample supply of food and water.  But the doorway was blocked.  By the head and chest of a Light Brahma hen.  I wondered, idly, if she were stuck. And it occurred to me that perhaps I should check.

So, I pulled on my tall boots, and shrugged into my cozy down coat, and out I went.  I'm not sure if I was imagining it, but the Silkies looked chilly.  And the Brahma?  She had one wing partially out the door, and one wing in.  She had a look on her face that was decidedly unhappy.  I watched a moment, and she struggled to move out of the little door, but could not.  She was wedged in tight. I pondered my options, trying not to laugh at her plight.  I failed.  I smiled, then I chuckled, then I think I even guffawed a bit.  The hen cast a cold dark eye upon me, and I did what I must.

I opened the hatch where one collects eggs, and sure enough, a still-warm brown egg was nestled neatly in the clean hay of the next box. I popped it in my pocket. Then I reached in and gently felt around the bird jammed in the door.  Yup, stuck.  Tightly.  Her legs were braced against the floor, pushing, pushing, trying to propel her out and into the yard.  But her heavy body was held firmly by the unyielding wood.  She protested mightily when she felt my hand exploring her nether-regions, and struggled intently. The one wing that was partially out slipped all the way to freedom, and she flapped it vigorously.  She began to squawk, too. Loudly. I pushed a bit, but she remained firmly ensconced. Bemused, I pushed a little harder, and she did, too, and then, with a rush of feathers, her bulk popped out the frame and she was free!  She ran across the snow, yelling her head off, back to her flock.

The Silkies filed, one by one, up the ramp and into the shelter of their snug home.  I shook my head, cupped the warm egg in my hand, and went in to work smiling. 

The case of the missing egg...

It is mid-day and very cold; 19 degrees with a biting wind. This means that though I filled all the water bowls this morning at dawn, by now the animals which do not have heated water bowls would have frozen water. It is important that they have access to water that is actually wet throughout the day.  So, I filled a 5 gallon jug up with warm water and trundled outside.  The duck water bowl had 1/4 inch of ice on it, so I dumped it out, and refilled it to the brim.  The ducks understand the routine, and cheered me on from a safe distance, then rushed to drink and splash the moment I stepped away.

The big chicken coop has an electrically heated bowl, but the scamps often unplug it, so I topped it off and checked the plug while I was out.  The little coop, for the Silky chickens, does not have electricity, so I popped the ice out of their bowl and refilled it for them.  I noticed they had eaten an awful lot of food this morning, and then saw this...

One of the large Light Brahma hens had ventured from the big coop, across the snow, and somehow wedged its very large body into the very small opening and was hanging out with the little chickens. And eating. A lot.

Mostly the chickens stay in their coop when there is snow on the ground, especially when it is very cold.  But one other hen had flown the coop, and was exploring the pasture looking for snacks.  She had also laid an egg in the goat room.

 I carried the egg to the deck and left it there, next to the water jug, while I tossed some hay out to the horse and goats.  I have learned it is best not to keep eggs in my pocket, as I often end up with a dreaded "pocket omelet." Ick.

The goats and horse were glad to see me, and the hay. Mostly the hay.  Goats and horses depend on the energy they produce when they digest their food to help them stay warm in cold weather, so they need to eat frequently.  Luna smiled when she saw I had brought the good stuff... second cut hay, sweet and leafy.  Much better than some of the stemmy stuff we have stashed.

When I came back, there was no sign of the egg.  The deck is not exactly level, so I checked to see if it had rolled off.  No egg.  I double checked my pockets. No egg, no omelet.  I puzzled a bit, then decided I was too cold to care and proceeded towards the house.

Next to the door I found this.

And guess who had egg on his face?

Everyday...

I bought myself two workbooks (one for life in general, and one for business) and a journal to start the New Year off on a more organized and (hopefully) thoughtful note.  They are designed by Leonie Dawson, and are artistic, happy, positive and uplifting.  Her work strikes a chord with me, and I am enjoying working with them and planning the wonderfulness of 2016.

One thing Leonie suggests is that we keep a jar on hand, and every time something pleasant happens, jotting it down on a slip of paper and tucking it into the jar.  At the end of the year, it would be a wonderful thing to look back at all the nice little (and big!) events that were joyful and think good thoughts about the year as it closes. 

For instance, today I tucked Mr. Abbot into his wonderful new hutch.  One side is deep with clean, sweet hay, the other side has his food, water, mineral block and some things to play with.  He has not yet explored the ramp down to the 4x8 foot space of room for a bunny to bounce and play.  He settled in happily and was a treat to see him exploring his new, luxurious digs. 

The horse and goats were very curious about the new hutch.  When we moved it in (on a trailer hauled by my truck over the ice and snow) there was a lot of snorting. The goats snort and stamp one front hoof when they are worried. The horse was much more dramatic, running, bucking, and making loud snorts of alarm.  She tossed her head and bombed around the pasture in protest of the changes. 

Once the hutch was in place and readied, and Mr.Abbott moved in, Jane had to investigate thoroughly. 

And after Chanel was reassured that it was not a pack of wolves we had brought to the pasture, she checked our pockets for treats and gave Chris a sweet kiss...

 So I think today was a perfect day to put a slip in the jar. A little day full of everyday miracles.
Just the way I like it.

My husbands day "off"...

I am afraid that I am guilty of under-appreciating my husband sometimes.  He is so good, so patient, so kind.  Here is an example of his wonderfulness.  A few weeks ago I bought a bunny at a livestock auction on a whim.  It only cost $17.50, so it was hardly a bank breaker.  It is living happily enough in a large dog crate, but I wanted it to have better. 

I am on a Facebook page that features livestock and supplies for the area where I live.  A few days ago I saw a very nice looking rabbit hutch.  The seller was asking $300.  A lot of money, for a pet I bought on a whim.  But I could see that the hutch could serve many purposes, and I arranged to buy it.

Today, New Years Day, Chris and I both had the day off. I got up early, as always. I exercised the dogs, milked the goats, fed and watered all the animals.  When Chris woke up we both showered and got dressed. By 9:00 we were on the road, hauling our little trailer behind our truck.  An hour and a half later we arrived at our destination, and there, at the top of a very icy hill,  was the wonderful hutch, as promised.

The left door has an area with a wire floor, designed for food and water. Bunny excrement would fall into a tray beneath.  It is excellent fertilizer for plants and gardens, and could be saved with the tray.  There is a wall with a little arched door to the compartment on the right.  Filled with hay, it makes a very cozy spot for a sleeping bunny to cuddle in.  There is a ramp from the left side that goes down to a lovely large space beneath, for a bunny to nibble on grass and hop about.  The whole thing is 4' x 8'.  Big, and HEAVY.

What the advertiser did not convey was the fact that he is a professional building contractor, and the hutch is built magnificently. Supremely sturdy, attractive, and solid.

It was no easy task to get it on our little trailer.  Luckily, the man who sold it was very handy. Between he and Chris, they managed to use a come-along, a tractor, and some stout planks, along with some brawn, grunts and muscle, and safely slide the thing up.  Then they cinched it down tightly with ropes and tie downs.  The load was top-heavy and awkward, but by gum, the hutch was there and safe. It traveled well.

The seller threw in a bonus.  A dog house he had made for his long dead Wire Haired Pointer.  Just as well made and solid as the hutch. And CUTE!(He has Boxers now, that live inside.)

My ducks currently live in a calf hutch next to my pretty, custom made chicken coop.  The calf hutch is quite practical and serviceable, but ... um, not very attractive.  This dog house?  It is very nice looking, and will look sweet next to my coop. It will make a perfect duck house!  I'll wait until spring to move the ducks there, but the gift of it is lovely.

There will need to be some white stain applied to both of these, but that can wait.

We didn't return from our outing until around 3:00 PM.  We drove the truck and trailer into the pasture, and positioned the hutch next to the pony shed.  But then we were flummoxed.  We didn't know how to get it off the trailer without damaging it.  So I did what I must and called our oh-so-capable best pals.  They are farmers, and smart, and strong and clever to boot.  True friends, the response to our call was, "We'll be there in 20 minutes." They dropped whatever they were doing without question to come help us. We are blessed.

 I passed the time by scooping and hauling pony poop.  Our good friends arrived in no time and took the situation into consideration.  Before I knew it the male half of our friend couple had lifted the hutch up over his head, in one swift movement, as if the heavy thing were made of spun sugar.  I saw him and gasped.  Meanwhile, my husband deftly moved the trailer from under the hutch, and the two of them (with a little help from we women) then muscled the hutch into place.  Bing, bang, boom.

Then they helped us move the heavy dog house to near where I want it to be. We will have to take down some fence to get it to its final destination, but it is close!

Dusk was falling by this time.  Chris headed upstairs for a well deserved nap.  His entire day off spent chasing some little dream of mine. Again.I realize he has done this over and over... spending his precious time to please me.

 In March it will be our 32 wedding anniversary... and just now, finally, I am beginning to realize just how much he gives to me.  I like to think I have always appreciated him, but not enough.  Not nearly enough.

The rabbit hutch is wonderful. My husband is wonderful. Our FRIENDS are wonderful.  My realization of just how lucky I am?  Late... but terrific.