true story from the farm

Chicken followed me,
under foot, to and fro. STOP
You're freaking me out!

he kept tripping me; i almost broke my leg

chicken, chicken, cow

My BFF is having a farm-tastic giveaway over on her blog.
Jump over and leave a comment on this post and you could win one of these fabulous Quirkees:

and some yummy homemade peach salsa.
If you convince a friend to enter you get another chance.
Contest closes at midnight EDT on Saturday, October 12th.
Good Luck!

chickens don't know gratitude

I visited Rea last month for my birthday.
While we strolled her five acres discussing the long-term farm plan i noticed a Rhode Island Red rooster hopping about frantically. His feet were all twined up so we set about unhobbling him.
Did he thank us?
Was he grateful?

i could keel you right now with just ma angry glare

This is why i prefer them in McNugget form.

I just saved your life,

Mr. Could Not Walkerston.

Don't eyeball me, boy.

what could be worse than the twart-hog?

(when the day starts with a spontaneous explosion that could've taken out a city block and ends with falling up the stairs in front of guests, you know it is time to get home and hide in your bed because you are being stalked by the poultry-geist)

{note- the explosion happened in my lab, but not to me; fTM Megan burned off the hairs on her arms and nearly had a heat attack, but she seemed okay}

Oh, Henry

A few weeks ago i participated in the National Road Yard Sale. It was a hoot; you can read Michelle's account of it here, along with pictures of her and Cassie doing a rousing rendition of the Village People's YMCA with Y-A-R-D.
But the most important thing to know about that day is that in payment for my hard work i acquired Henry:

Yes, he is a devilled egg plate shaped like a chicken.
I can not explain my deep love of this odd object.
Every time i look at him i get the giggles.
It is just so... so... RIDICULOUS.
Maybe Rea had control of the brain that day -you are aware that my BFF and I share a brain, right?- or something, but i just HAD to have this chicken plate. I said to myself, Self, you could get him and send him to Ohio, but i knew that i was lying. I just wanted him for myself.
And yes, i'm aware that most of you, including those who raise chickens, might try to convince me that this is a hen and not a rooster, but i KNOW in my heart of hearts that it is a boy and his name is Henry.
The only real question i have is about his maker's mark: Teleflora. Teleflora? Aren't they the flower people? What kind of bouquet comes with a chicken-shaped egg plate?
Anyhoo... he's mine now.
Anyone having a cookout? I'll bring the devilled eggs!

city mouse goes visiting

Welcome to Marengo, Ohio.
Approximately 15 minutes from the middle of nowhere, this is where my BFF has set up her family homestead: Cackleberry Hollow.
Down a county route, off of another county route and up a long drive is the lovely, little white farmhouse with a wrought iron trellis by the front door.
Of course, no one ever uses the front door.
Like all good country houses, everyone comes and goes through the back door, past the gate in the picket fence.
Rea and her husband had both described the house as small so i was expecting a tiny, little cottage or something. Maybe it is small for a farm house, but this place is no shack: laundry room, bathroom, powder room, eat-in kitchen, dining room (converted to an office/computer room), living room, foyer, 2 bedrooms, homeschool/craft room and both front and back stairs.
Everything is hardwood and there are some lovely details, like the turned supports and the carving on the banister.
Though the most awesome design element of the house, in my opinion, is the central wood burning stove, backed with a fieldstone pillar chimney.
I felt like i was on a movie set.
The house and family are guarded by a pair of Eskies:
Danny, who just joined the family and though almost full grown is still very puppyish, and Krystl who is the eldest canine member of the family and has been around long enough to know that on a hot day the best thing to do is lay on top of the floor register (look at her fur flying; it was hilarious in person). Krystl is pretty much a house dog while Danny likes to be outside during the day and inside at night. They both, however, want to be the center of human attention and are convinced that they are lap dogs despite the obvious evidence to the contrary.
There is also good natured Great Pyranees guard dog named Iona who lives in the biggest barn. I'm not sure "good natured" and "guard dog" should go together, but she really was both. I wish i had a good picture of Iona to share -she's beautiful in a rough-and-tumble sort of way and so big that on her hind legs she's taller than me- but whenever i went close enough to take a picture, Danny would show up and start wrestling with her.
I don't think that he realizes that she could just crush his skull in her jaws if she wanted to; luckily, she seems to enjoy playing with the little punk.
After touring the house and getting the approval of the dogs (Krystl was the only one who knows me) Rea took me on a tour of the farm.
Picturesque, no?
Weeds had overtaken much of the garden, but there was still a lot of viable veggies. So many, in fact, that there is a marmet/groundhog/woodchuck/gopher who has turned it into his/her very own salad bar. Rea was excited that there was a rutabaga ready to come out of the ground that hadn't been munched so that she could show it to me.
 
regardless, i still maintain that there is no such thing as rutabaga
I have no question about the existence of sunflowers, though and you can just see the corn past me. I wanted to pick and eat it immediately, having never done that before, but alas, Rea informed me that it needed at least another week before harvesting.
 Drat.
After the garden it was animal time.
This is the big yard next to the coop where the laying hens and the ducks live. They definitely recognize that human voices equal food and so they come when called.
Hilarious to us city folk.
You can see that there are all types of chickens; i won't embarrass myself by trying to name them, though i do know that the tawny chicken all the way at the back of the picture is a Buff Orpington. I also know that this is the rooster.
He wanted to make sure that i was aware of just how special he was and that he meant business;
check out the strut:
Who's the man? I'm the man. That's right.
The meat chickens live in two chicken tractors that are moved all around the farm so that they have a constantly fresh supply of worms and bugs and such, while fertilizing the ground for next year's crops, though they do get supplemental grain feed every night as well.
You might notice a few non-meat birds in the tractors as well. Apparently there are some birds that like to hang out here instead of being in the coop, as well as a few layers that are still too young to be put in the yard with the full grown birds.
Plus you might have spotted the wee, little turkey who always looked nervous to me. I don't know if it is because i've never seen a juvenile turkey before and they all look that apprehensive or if it is because he knows the family refers to him as Thanksgiving. Inside the barn there was a box with baby guineas -who when full grown will free range, gobbling up all those bothersome ticks- and Rea's beloved silkies I'm not sure what their purpose is, besides being pretty, but i know they must have one because nobody gets a free ride on the farm.
There are rabbits of both the meat and pet variety
as well as bees who pollinate and make honey and wax.
 
Even my nephew can be found working, though i think that at nine, he thinks driving the mower is still pretty fun and not just work.
The farm is now also the location of the family business
since there was an outbuilding large enough for Scott to set up his woodworking shop.
This summer Rea set a canning goal for herself and i think she is doing very well on it. In fact, one day when there was nothing ready to be picked she looked at the weeds that had taken over one part of the yard and decided to find out if any of it was edible. With a little help from the internet (living in the sticks doesn't mean living in the past, people) she found a recipe and made Queen Anne's Lace jelly.
  It was... interesting.
Firstly, i don't understand why it was pale pink when the flowers are white. There was an undertone of... i can't explain it... maybe grassy would be the right word. You could tell it wasn't made from a fruit, but it was still tasty. I liked it. [BTW, Rea has put these pretty blue flowers - i think they are bachelor buttons- on notice that they are next for jellification ]
Yes, everyone and everything on the farm has to earn their keep; there will be no lollygagging about...
ummmm... why is that duck just walking around?
Why isn't it in the penned yard? Why is it just waddling about?
Hello? Okay, maybe it isn't all work, work, work every second on the farm. As evening comes on slowly and the temperature falls there is a peace, a quietness that seemed to descend. There is time for a little rest in the hammock
or perhaps to sit together on the wee bench under the pear tree.
I've never even seen a pear tree before -
look at how adorable they are!
As the hubbub of farm life was winding down and Rea started dinner there was still one last chore left to do, the one i had been waiting all day to do : collecting eggs!
Oh yes, this city mouse was going to go collecting eggs all by herself and i hoped beyond hope that there was an actual wicker egg basket for the collecting. When i asked, Rea laughed and said that they often just put the eggs in a plastic bucket, but when she saw my quivering lip and my dreams being dashed on the kitchen floor she added that there was a basket they sometimes used.
Yippee!
Most of the chickens were in the coop for the night,
roosting on various perches
but there was one in the brooding box.
Apparently she likes it better and who am i to argue?
She didn't even blink when i walked up to the box and started picking up the eggs that were in most of the boxes. In fact, she didn't move at all. I did all of the boxes around her, but finally I had to reach under her to check for eggs. Talk about doing something new; i'm not sure i've ever been in the same room with a live chicken, much less touched one, much less rooted around under one to take the eggs she worked so hard to make. She was unfazed by the whole interaction.
I was gleeful.
  Look at my colorful, eggey bounty.
In an egg basket, no less!
I was so overjoyed that i almost put the basket over my arm to skip back to the house; luckily, i remembered that they were raw eggs so mayhaps that might not be the best idea ever. Visiting Rea's was so fun. Of course, that is because i was visiting and didn't have to do all of the hardwork every day. I'm not sure i am cut out for that. But my coz sure is -
  that is one happy, proud country mouse.

i continue to blame Rea

I'm pretty sure there is no graphic art of a huge chicken on a traffic box on a street corner in downtown Baltimore. I mean, why would there be? We are miles and miles from the nearest farm/hatchery/eggery/or Perdue plant. I'm pretty sure i imagined it because my cousin and I have been talking about $1 chickens on Craig's List.

Next, i'm gonna start believing rutabagas are real.