Hear a Cheep!

This used to be the time of year when all I could think about was my garden: cataloging seeds, draw up a detailed maps of where to plant what, ordering seeds and plants if I needed them.  I would comb over my seed catalogs, usually Seed Savers Exchange, Seeds of Change and Burpee.  Don't get me wrong, I still am thinking about my garden and have not thrown away any catalogs, but I am way behind now that I have got the chicken hatchin' fever.

Last year was my first time as an adult at hatching eggs.  I started with a my first batch, a dozen Silkies.
 (see picture to the left), and 3 eggs from my own hens that were crossbreeds (Dark Cornish and Easter Egger), and 10 Cayuga Duck eggs from my neighbor's flock.  This was my test run, and my results were 4 Silkies, 2 ducks and all 3 of my own eggs hatched.  This was SO exciting for me!  Here I am a year and 7 hatches later and I am still just as excited about my eggs and chicks as I was  then.  I feel like a child in the candy store when I start pouring over ads for hatching eggs and chicks and looking on hatchery websites and at their catalogs.  Seriously now, I am a grown woman!  But I see it as a simple joy to help bring something into this world and nurture it along until one day, it provides me with something good to eat, whether it be eggs or their carcass.

I was quite saddened with my first hatch this year though.  I set 34 eggs and ended up with just 1 little White Silkie chick. 1 chick!  That is terrible!!!  But, the eggs had been shipped through the mail which causes some damage to them.  Then I had trouble getting my incubator to hold its temp and humidity.  All in all, though I was disappointed, I was not surprised.  So, I had to get some friends for my lone little chicky, and bought 10 more from a breeder (when I got 4 dozen more eggs to put in the incubator).  However, so far, I have lost 4 of those chicks and I don't know why :(  It makes me so sad to lose them like that and not know why.

But to make myself feel better, I got more eggs!  I must stop after this though, I think I have used up my budget for buying eggs this year.  I have about 60 in right now and it looks like about 50 of those are certainly growing some little wannabe chicks in them.   Since my first batch failed so epically, I had to order more Silkies, and then I found a breed I have been hunting for, Standard Buff Brahmas!!  I thought for sure I would be outbid on the auction, but I got them!  Now to get them to hatch when they get here.  That is the trick, isn't it?

Today when I went out to do chores, I opened the door from the outside of one of the coops to collect eggs, and one of my Easter Egger hens that I hatched from my own flock (one of the 3 in the first batch) was laying her first egg of the spring.  How did I know that it was her first one?  Because I haven't gotten an almost olive green egg yet this year, just bluish green ones.  She was obviously pushing to get that little prize out of her butt, so I gave her a couple of minutes.  Lo and behold, there is came, a perfectly beautiful green egg!  What did I do?  Ran it in the house and stuck it in the incubator, of course!  I want more green egg layers!  My neighbor's friend wants some too, so I might as well hatch away for her too.


So, I hear not only A cheep, but lots of cheeps and will be hearing them more and more and more and more and more.  They should have a hatchers/chickens anonymous, but I would hate to turn myself in because the first thing they would want to do is take away all my incubators and chickens.  I think I will be happy with my addiciton.

CC

Silly Silly Featherheads

I just went out to see what the heck the birds were chasing each other for.   I saw one of the Splash girls running with something in her beak, but I could not tell what it was.   Now, mind you, the only things out there are snow, straw and mash, plus whatever shavings haven't been poopified yet.    I was worried someone was eating a fresh laid egg.  I got out there and the chase was over. 
But as I rounded the corner of the brooder house, I caught a glance of the hole in the corner of the plastic tub I keep the grit in.  I had accidentally hit it with the snowblower earlier this week and it just broke all to pieces on that corner.  Lo and behold, a little tan egg was sitting in there!    It was smaller than my Silkie eggs but larger than my Sebrights.  Who it could be?  There are about 25 girls out there, so it could have been one of a few who I know had not begun laying last fall.  It is the cutest, purtiest egg, and it was still warm! 

Those silly, silly pullets.  She has much to learn about finding a soft, warm place to set her bum to lay an egg.

The end.

So Sad

This weekend was my first hatch for chickens for 2011.  I set 34 eggs and got 1 chick.  How depressing!  The worst part was the chicks that got as far as pipping - when they crack a hole in the shell so they can start coming out - then died.  I had 3 of them do that!  It is heartbreaking.  I can only hope my future hatches will have better results.  Being the first hatch of the year, my incubators probably weren't running their best.  One of them stinks where I had an egg explode in it last summer when it was sweltering hot here.  Yes, it was immensely gross!  Since the incubator is made out of styrofoam, it didn't all come out, even after using bleach.  Yuck!  I am hoping it doesn't effect future hatches.

The other thing that happened that saddens me is that I lost my beautiful little castor doe.  She was a Mini Rex rabbit and very soft and lovely.  She was about 7-years old, and I think her age and maybe an infection were her cause of death.  She had some bad thing going on with her eyes this last week and I ordered meds and vetted her, but it wasn't enough.  I went out to do chores last night and I knew she would not make it until morning.  I picked her up and she did not struggle, just cuddled up in my arms.

Spring is on its way and I hope that with that I have better luck with all my critters.  My they be fruitful and multiply, but not toooooo fast ; )


CC

Cars

An old friend of mine told me that I should write about my first car.  She probably remembers more stories about when I had that thing than I do, it was so long ago.  But, my first car was a 1976 Chevy Nova.  There is nothing wrong with that, but the fact that it was a total rust bucket and was pumpkin orange, well, that gave it all the reason to remember it.  I bought it for $500 cash from the county health and welfare office.  The seats were as lovely as the outside, black and white houndstooth patterned.  The crazy thing burned as much oil as gas, and leaked oil too until I found out it had a bad head gasket.  With the help of my brother, I fixed that problem AND patched the gaping hole under the foot pedal with a piece of sheet metal.  For the first winter, there was slush and mud getting thrown up by my feet until he helped me bandage it.  But hey, that car ran for me for 2 1/2 years, then I sold it to some crazy kids for $200 and they used it as a field car.  I think I got my $500 worth out of it.
My friend Anne and I always talked about going to a Halloween parade with that car and making a stem to go on top.  It didn't always stay just plain orange though.  It got so rusted up that the latches on the driver's side seized up and I had to replace the whole door.  Then, it was a pumpkin orange and maroon colored car.  The interior of the door was white, when the rest of the interior was black with the ever so lovely houndstooth.  Ah, they just don't make them like that any more.  And Thank Goodness!

I have driven a few other cars since then: 1974 Dodge Dart sedan (and ugly 4-door grandma car that the frame broke on it just a year or so after I bought it); 1973 Chevy Nova with a V8 327(I think?), that I had glass pack mufflers on it when I was stationed in California to make it sound cooooool.  I loved that car and always have wished I would have just put the  money into it to get it fixed right.  It only had an AM/FM radio in it that hardly worked, but it got me across the US when I got out of boot camp and went to my first duty station.  It was a light metallic green with a dark green vinyl roof, and the interior was this shiny green fabric.  I really liked that car.  When it was getting to a point where it was in need of some costly repairs, I was just a few months away from transferring overseas, so I sold it and borrowed my brother's car that he wasn't using.  Oh My God, was that a mistake.  He had this car in storage for quite some time.  It was in nice condition, a 1980 Red Dodge Mirada (I think they only made them one year).  It was the cool car my older brother bought brand new when he was still in high school.  It was the car we would go out with our friends in on the weekends with a really cool 8-track stereo in it.  When I borrowed it from him, it still had the case of 8-tracks in it.  But, since he just let it sit, little did we know, the fuel line was trashed.  I found this out when I left Denver to drive back to San Diego.  I got to New Mexico and started having some problems.  By the time I got to Gallup, it died.  I found a repair shop and they pulled the gas tank off and it was full of sediment and rust.  They didn't have one to replace it with and it would take days to get a new one, but I only had two days and I had to be back or be UA (Unauthorized Absence-same as AWOL).  So, the shop cleaned it best they could and we put fresh gas in and I headed out.  I made it back to San Diego, barely.  It was still giving me problems once I got to SD.  I had a friend from work who worked on cars for people, so I took it to him.  We ended up running all new fuel lines in that damn thing before it ran right.  I was so glad to take it back to my brother when I was ready to transfer.  In the end, I would have spent half the money to fix the Nova as I ended up spending on plane tickets and repairs to that Mirada.

My next vehicle was a brand new 1992 Chevy S-10 Maxi Cab pick-up truck.  It was Frost White and I loved my little truck.  It was perfect for me with it's 5-speed manual transmission, stereo with cassette player, the nice cargo space behind my seats to put things like groceries, a bed to haul bigger things like furniture.  Ah, life was good with that truck.  I never would have gotten rid of it except I was expecting our second child and the little jump seats in the back didn't work for car seats.  So, on with the soccer mom vehicle, a 1995 Dodge Caravan.  It was used, but ran well.  It was good for a small  but growing famiy.  The only problem we had with it the first couple of years was that the floor was always freezing cold in the winter, no matter how high the heat was cranking.  It wasn't until I took it in for an oil change one time and told them I wanted the heat checked on it.  We found out then that the lines/tubes that ran the heat to the back were rotted out and all the outside air was being driven into the car floor space.  NO WONDER my feet froze the time I road in the back!  My kids were lucky enough that they were still up on car seats and bundled up pretty good.

Buy like every vehicle, it had its day where it needed to be upgraded.  I then thought I needed and SUV.  I traded in the van for a 1997 Chevy Suburban.  Huge, ginormous mistake.  First of all, climbing up into that thing to get kids in and out was a hassle.  I had two preschoolers and a baby, and getting all three in and out....not fun.  There is loads of space and it drives smoothly and I did like many things about it.  Then there was the gas bill.  Again, Oh My God!  Top that off with the fact that trying to park that thing anywhere was hell.  Six months later, I bought my present 2003 Chrysler Town and Country mini van.  I now have about 105,000 miles on it and it still is running quite well.  It has some wear on it, and scratches and a couple of dents, but it has been a great vehicle.  However, now my lifestyle has changed once more, and I think I will be getting myself a truck again this summer.

So, there it is, the story of my cars.  Anne, I am sorry if it isn't all as exciting as you remember it.  The 'good ol' days' are a bit fuzzy for me now that my life is so much different than it was back then.  And 'then' is 30-years ago.  I have traveled many, many, many, many, many miles since then.

It is time for me to go fire up the mini van now that it has warmed up to 0˚F from last night's -15˚F.  I need to run my errands for the day.

CC

Another Coming of Age

Last week my husband took Eldest and showed him how to shave.  What a milestone for a young man.  Yes, he needed it, the peach fuzz was beyond the cute stage and it needed to come off.  So what if it will be 3 more months before he sees enough to try it again, he now knows how. 
It is funny how something like that seems like such a big deal at that age.  Us females look to that day when we get to shave our legs for the first time - well, some of us females do anyway.  Then by the time we are my age, who really remembers that first time?  Not me.  Now it is just another chore to keep  myself looking like I still care about my appearance.  Okay, I do care about my appearance, but if I can put off shaving anything, I will.  The hair on my head, on the other hand, is an entirely different story....

I have/had 3 sisters who are licensed hair stylists.  So, why would I feel the need to cut my own hair?  Well, when I started, they weren't licensed for starters.  I was in 7th grade.  My mother had this vanity with 3 mirrors, 2 of which you could position just right so that I could see all the way around my head.  I don't know why I felt the urge to start cutting, but I did it.  Do you know what?  The next day was school pictures.  Imagine how wonderful I looked!  I couldn't quite get the front even, so I would snip a little on the longer side.  Then it would be crooked the other way, and I would snip a little again.  By the time I quit snipping, the front was about 1/2-inch long.  To make matters worse, I tried to wet the bangs down to make them look longer and weigh them down for pictures.  Needless to say, that year, I went back for re-takes, however, a month later there still wasn't a whole lot there.  You would think I would learn.  Yes, I did.  I learned that I needed more practice!  To this day, I usually do my own hair still.  I get the urge and go in the bathroom and start snipping.  My husband reminds me of what my sister would say, but I ignore it and cut away.  The biggest thing I have learned, is that hair grows back, at least for now. 

We all are in such a hurry to grow up when we are kids, and then you get to the mid-point of life and say, "I can't believe how time has flown by."  How do you tell kids that they should slow down and enjoy what they have without them going to the extent of never taking on responsibility?  How do you say, "Your job is to have fun.  You're a kid."  and still teach them that life is not all fun and games?  It is no easy task.  Then just when you think you are on the right track and raising good kids, they become pre-teens and teenagers and all common sense goes flying out the door.  We have 3 wonderful kids, and there are days when I want to scream and pull my hair out.  Then I ask, "If our kids are really good kids, then what is it like for those parents whose kids are not so good?"  Then I always deny that I was ever like that.  But I probably was, and my parents surely had times that I drove them nuts wondering what they heck was going through my head.  Oh well.  We reap what we sow, I guess.

We live, we learn, we grow up and we hope that our kids have kids just like them who will drive them to wanting to scream and pull their hair out.  It's called pay back.

So Ready For Spring

I went out to check/feed/clean out the chickens and it feels like Spring wants to come.  Of course, we have a few weeks yet.  Sadly.  The birds are all out and getting frisky though.  My roosters are getting a bit cocky and strutting around like they own the place.  Of course, I have news for them, and they know it too when I start walking toward them.

I know I am totally hooked on my chickens when I get all excited and giddy when I find an egg.  I found someone is laying in the ark, but no idea who yet.   I know a Welsummer is laying a nice, big, speckled egg in the other coop.  Two nights ago, Eldest brought in a Silkie egg, and FINALLY, today I have a Sebright egg.  So, that makes, I think 6 in all that I have collect eggs from.  Now, if they could tell the other 32 or so how to do it.  But you know, in another couple of months I am going to be going on about how I have all these eggs and not being able to sell them all.

I have been feeling under the weather this week.  I really mean it too.  I think the winter has gotten to me from a psychological standpoint.  I feel guilty too.  I have so little get up and go.  On top of that, my darling boys have been sick and have shared a bit with me.  I rested up and seem to have dodged a bullet there and feel pretty good today.  I felt bad though because my best friend's mother passed away this week and I wasn't able to make it to the funeral because of my probable contagious state.  I was sure that a big old truck was heading down the road to run my ass over and make me feel like crawling in a hole, but here I am, feeling better today.

The garden is still buried deep under the snow, but I hear it calling to me.  I so look forward to warm sunny days that the sun will warm me as I dig and plant and weed.  I love to weed.  I know it is crazy, but it is such a simple activity to keep your hands busy while your mind has time to contemplate, to ponder, to wander and to muse.  When my sister was killed a few years ago, it was my place to escape to think about her and the memories I had of times spent together with her.  It is therapy for my mind and soul to be out in the earth and moving and making things clean and healthy, not choked and sickly.  How better to heal the soul of losing a loved one than to be amidst the growing, living plants and organisms?  When I die, I want to be cremated and my ashes scattered in my gardens.  I am sure that is against the law, huh?  But that is what I would want.

I must be off though.  The post office called and my first batch of chicken hatching eggs are waiting there for me.  Like I said, Spring is calling.
CC

Another Year Older

Yesterday was my 45th birthday.  I am not afraid to share that, obviously.  I feel I have deserved the right to broadcast it.  It must be the mentality of growing up in a large family and being close to the end of the line.  I come from a family of 11 children, and I am number 9.  No steps in there either.  My parents were crazy, and Catholic during most of my childhood.  So, in the eyes of my family, I think they still think of me as being younger than I am, especially since I left home and joined the Navy when I was 21.  That age seems to stick in peoples minds when you leave and then return.  They look at you like, "Hey, you are supposed to be young still!"  Well, I am, but I am not.  I would go home and visit and all my nieces and nephews were growing like weeds and I would feel the same way toward them.  We can't help it, it just happens that way.

So, yes, a family of 11.  People always ask me, "What was it like growing up in such a big family?".  Like I would have an answer to that?  What else did I know?  What is it like growing up in a small family?  Or the best one was "Can you remember all their names?"  Duh, do you know 11 people and can remember their names?  I remember their names, birthdays, anniversaries, ages, and lots more.  What a stupid question.


I will give a few clues to growing up with that many in one household though.  When I was a little girl, up to age 8, we lived in a house that had 3 bedrooms on the main floor, an unfinished upstairs, and a basement that was once the main living quarters before the upper part of the house was added.  Yeah, it was as dank, damp and dreary as it sounds-a basement.  But once I moved out of the crib, that is where I slept with my 4 older sisters.  There was a big room with no door and no wall either on one side, and we slept there.  The floors were concrete with those old slate type tiles, and they were COLD!  I don't know what it all looked like before I came along, but it wasn't a pretty place from any memory I have.  There was also a kitchen where my mother did her canning, a laundry area and a huge laundry cart where all 13 of us put our clothes.  So, imagine being the one to have to do all of that laundry.  I swear that washer had to run 24/7, literally.  We even had the old wringer type washer when I was little and loved to help my mother do laundry.  Now I would spaz if I had to do all that way.  She would iron too, including sheets, I remember.  She would spray them and fold and roll them up and put them in the freezer.  I don't know why, I never asked.  But I remember doing it.  She had an old glass pop bottle with this sprinkler thing that fit on top and had a cork fitting to keep it on the bottle.  I loved to sprinkle the clothes and she would iron them, or we would fold them together.

When I was maybe 7-years old, us girls got to move up to the upstairs of the house.  It was not finished, but it was enough for us to be up there.  I don't remember if the bathroom was completely finished, I think we could use it some, but not sure if the shower was hooked up.  Anyway, it was better than the basement.  Oh, and the boys got the bedrooms on the main level, 2 in each.  Did I mention?  There were 7 girls and 4 boys in our family.   Back to the upstairs/girls' room...I got to sleep in a full-sized bed with my one older sister.  The others had their own beds.  This was completely unfair.  The sister I slept with is 9 years older than I am, and with me being 6 or 7 at that time, she was much bigger than I was.  So, there we were, in a full-sized bed with those lovely, old springs under an old cotton mattress (no wonder I have back problems even now).  She slept in the middle of the bed, which, because of the springs that had no support other than keeping you off the floor, sagged drastically.  I ended up hanging onto the side of the bed all night so not to lay on top of her, which she would not have (did not when I happen to let go) been too happy with me about.

When I was 8, we moved.  My father and his brother had been running the family farm together and had a falling out/parting of ways, so my dad started a new business and we then moved to a farm 30-miles away.  Dad ran his business and the rest of us did the farming.  He worked in the field when it was time for planting and harvesting, and occasionally ( usually on Sunday mornings) would come and help do chores.  My parents bought an old house with 12-acres that was a quarter mile away from the dairy farm where we had milking cows.  We had a big dairy barn at the house, but it was not in any shape to milk cows, so it was used for dry cows, heifers, calves and our 4-H animals.  The house itself was probably 200-years old.  It seemed like a big house, but the rooms were tiny, it was OLD, and needed lots of work, but it held all of us.  The boys got to share the big room this time, and the girls split up the rest.  However, us three youngest girls got to share a hallway.  Yes, a hallway!  My two younger sisters had bunk beds and I had my own bed.  Thank goodness for that at least!  That room also served as the sewing room, if memory serves me correctly.  It was sort of a room though, maybe served as a sitting room back in the day that the house was a boarding house/carriage depot.  We never really knew the history of the old place, but it was old, old, old.

My parents had done lots of remodeling and adding on over the years, so it is much more than it was when we moved there.  Now, I have two adult siblings that live there with my mother.  My father passed away almost 3 years ago.  Now it is a big house that is nearly empty.  It makes me wonder what our house will be like when our children grow up and move out?

Yes, I am another year older, and wiser, and crazier and I like it.