WANTED: One Friendly Rooster

WANTED: One friendly rooster, preferably a barred rock but a desperate woman can’t be fussy.  Must be friendly.

I was reading Tish’s blog this morning when I realized I was smiling…again. The entry I read this morning showed photos of her critters. All of my animals are pet. I don’t even have a rooster.  The last rooster was mean. He’s been gone to mean rooster heaven (aka the compost post pile) for nearly two years. The rooster we thought we were going to get didn’t appear. I miss having a hen clucking around with a clutch of chicks now and then.

I’m going to order bbw turkeys soon. I’ll have them delivered in early July so that they’re 20 lbs +/- at Thanksgiving next year. Four of our Bourbon Red turkeys are going to freezer camp later this month. We’ll have Tom and Henley, our eight year old original birds, and Sweetie, the hen that was raised with her four badass brothers that went to freezer camp because of their horrid behavior.

Ducklings are welcome next spring! This was my year for drastically reducing the duck population. We’re down to seven now and I’m good with that. I’m going to separate the pewter colored runner drake, a white hen and a fawn/white hen and start a new batch of layers. I miss having duck eggs for baking. I haven’t yet decided where the ducks are going to live from spring to fall. They’ll be wintering in the hen house with the remaining three turkeys and 11 layers.

Once I figure out the details for the farm next year (and fill Steve in) I’ll fill you in.

#11

#11.

Bouncing Back

I’m feeling more like my real self, the person who loves farming, teaching and being close to the soil. For months I’ve felt like farming was sucking the life blood from my veins. It certainly drained my heart.  On top of the third consecutive shitty growing year (I grow and harvest year round so it’s not just a season, it’s the overall amount of the time I work) we dealt with Steve losing his job for five weeks, adjusted to Taylor leaving home for six weeks and the sad loss of what I thought would be two great new friendships. I stopped saying “next year will be better” because I didn’t have any hope that it might be true.  Instead, I thought about being trapped because I have four greenhouses and a tractor that have to earn their keep.

Late blight showed up early and took the majority of tomato and a third of the potato plants with it. There are weeds that will grow in spite of seven weeks of rain. They thrived when many vegetables died. We bought the tractor to turn it all under so that I didn’t have to look at it anymore.

I quit farming. I did. I really quit. I’m not a quitter but I quit.  The fourth greenhouse is still in a pile. Steve started the ground stakes and one rib is up and standing guard all by itself.  That’s all.  I didn’t do any of the work.  There’s lumber up there lying uselessly on the ground and I didn’t give a damn. I kept telling myself today was the day I’d pick up the effing sledgehammer and pound a few stakes in. It probably would have made me feel better if I had because I could have released some of this pent up frustration, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I don’t even walk up there anymore. When I go out to look for raspberries I go around instead of cutting through the garden and having to be near that stack of steel ribs.  I avoided that area so well that I didn’t know there were a dozen bright orange pumpkins up there.  Steve picked and loaded them into the tractor bucket and brought them down to the house for me. I was almost excited to see them.  Almost.

I’ve been sad for months. (Editing to add: Although farming sucks, life is great! It could be much worse.)

I’ve noted the dent in the weed seed bank as weeds germinate and are tilled in. A few days ago I was happy to see that more weed seeds have germinated since the field was last tilled.  Happy. Not just noting the fact, happy. We’ve been working on decreasing the weed seed bank by tilling the top two inches of the soil. I think between us we’ve tilled four times. There aren’t many new seeds being deposited this year. The only new seeds have blown in from outside the garden, a problem I can’t control. That’s progress.

I’ve established a new wholesale customer for 2010 and will be contacting another.  The vegetables I’m growing for the first customer can be grown in a controlled environment – the greenhouses. I’m getting very excited about that.

Attention Fedco – I’m ready for the 2010 catalog now.

Maybe next year will be better.

Chickens

It feels a little bit like a farm here today. We processed 22 eight week old Cornish rock chickens today. We set up, did the deed and dumped the offal in about two hours. The birds came from Welp. We are exceptionally pleased with the quality. We’d have had 100% success if it weren’t for the damned raccoons.  We didn’t gut any of the birds this year. We removed legs and breast meat. It meant losing a small amount of meat in the wings but we’re ok with that. The trade off for time saved is well worth it.  The birds were raised on grass, slept in one of the greenhouses at night and fed minimal commercial food. One bird, a hen, was too fat but the rest were perfect. The birds were excellent foragers.  I’ve done so little farm work this year that it felt good to do something farmy today.

I’m hanging out at Postcards From Robin for non-farming things.

The greenhouse that’s planted is doing well.  The small gh housed chickens at night but is now empty. I’ll turn on the water to soak the bone dry ground and get it ready for the planting.  The new gh isn’t going to be planted until February.

Bird count – seven turkeys, six ducks and 11 laying hens. We’ll process four turkeys before Thanksgiving.

Pest count – two bears, 10 raccoons and one skunk. They’ve moved on, some under their own power and others with help.

Looking for – a farmcollie puppy in the spring!

What a summer

I didn’t realize I hadn’t written in a month.

Seriously.  What a summer.   August was nice so what’s left of the garden is producing well. The tomatoes that haven’t been wiped out by late blight are doing well and ripening.  The potatoes didn’t fare as well. It killed all of them but I think they had a chance to produce well. We’ll see soon. I’ll start digging later in the week. The eggplant is gorgeous. (I started this several days ago, the Red Pontiacs are fine.)

The meat chickens are remarkable. They’re smart. Raccoons killed three the first night in their pen so we moved the chicks into a lobster crate and kept them on the sun porch over night. They quickly learned to come to the front of the pen and wait to be put in at night. In the morning they started flying up to the edge of the crate, jumping down and putting themselves in the pen.  They’re friendly. I wish my dumbass layers were this friendly. If the butcher will take them the meat birds are going out to be slaughtered. I remind myself every time I see them that they are not pets.  They’re always on the move and growing well. They came from Welp. I’ve been very pleased with their birds both times I’ve purchased them.

Three of the four coons have been trapped and killed. We have a male and two kits so far. The mother is still out there.  Nasty nasty animals.

Animal count : two bears, a  young moose that meanders through even if I’m outside, raccoons and the latest, coyotes that yapped 200 yards from the house. The coys were here two nights ago. The kitchen door was open and the screen door wasn’t locked. The dogs heard the coys and all three went after them. I didn’t hear them last night.  A flock of turkeys passes through but aren’t doing any damage yet. The poults are young and small for this time of year.  The bears have disappeared. Someone told me the problem bear was shot but I don’t know that it’s true. There are plenty of apples for them now so they shouldn’t show up again.

Taylor’s back in school and working. Her coarse load is wicked this year. She’s taking a college history course, trig, CP chem, honors English, advanced art and more. She’s making good money at Nook & Cranny. She earned enough to buy herself a very nice laptop that will be delivered tomorrow and more school clothes.  She’s an excellent shopper. She paid $106 for $262 worth of clothes from her favorite brand name.

We’re working on the new greenhouse. We’ll have ribs up and baseboards on this weekend.  I’m ordering baseboards and wiggle wire today.

I still love the tractor. Steve’s used it for some town work. He’s donating the equipment and his time to save the town some money.  I’m getting the weed seed bank under control and making the ugliness of this year’s growing season disappear.

I’ll be supplying a new wholesale customer next year. I no longer go to farmers market.  I have enough poly to make 1,250 sq ft of low tunnels for the winter.

I’m making the transition from full time farmer to full time writer several months earlier than normal. I usually spend six weeks writing full time in the winter. I’m doing that now. The first children’s book is waiting to be put into an envelope and sent to publishers. The weather is too nice to figure that out right now. The ten day forecast is incredible. Clear sky, warm to hot days, cool nights, low humidity.

Henderson Pond

RIGHT CLICK TO GET FULL SIZE PHOTOS

Melissa and I flew to Henderson Pond in the North Maine Woods yesterday.

Mt. Katahdin, taken from the air

Sunny Sunday

Taylor’s home! She came home from UB at Bowdoin College early Friday evening. She lazed around yesterday, said it was weird to not be on a tight schedule. She did manage a few loads of laundry and a shower but that was it for the day.  Earlier in the week she called to ask for mashed potatoes for supper Saturday night so she got “real food” including chicken we raised, tomatoes and cucumbers fresh from the garden and mashed potatoes dug a few minutes before going into the pot to cook.  Busy day Friday, lazy day Saturday, got a job Sunday morning.  She’ll be prepping and serving at Nook & Cranny starting this week.  We need to go to Bangor to get her uniform clothes and shoes so that she can get started.  She’s excited! She left early this morning to spend the day and evening with friends before they leave for college.

We were going to spend the day in the boat but Steve’s not feeling well.  He’s taking his turn with the stomach bug going around.  I could have spent the day farming but chose not to.  Here it is 3 pm and I’m in lounge pants, tank top, hair up, glass of ice water and writing. It’s all I’ve managed today.  I’ll at least throw on some jeans if Steve feels better later and we go out.  I haven’t written a thing about farming. No newspaper column, nothing to tell you about the meat chicks that arrived Friday morning, the tractor I’m lovin’, that we’ve tilled under 3/4’s of the one acre garden because growing sucks this year, the status of the greenhouse plants or the thousands of seedlings in trays in the seedling house.  Except for this three second blurb I’m not thinking about farming today.

Late Blight

I found late blight on tomatoes in the greenhouse this morning.

DAMMIT!

Open Farm Day

Open Farm Day in Maine is tomorrow, Sunday, July 26.   Last year I said I’d do it this year.  This year I’m saying I’ll do it next year.  Even if we have another horrible summer I’ll be ready for visitors next year thanks to the new greenhouse and tractor.

In the news…

In the news… Me!

It started with an interview about turkeys.  Do they really drown in the rain?  If you didn’t read the previous blog on that you’ll have to either look it up or wait for National Geographic Kids to hit the stand.

Then it started raining (you’ve heard me mention, moan and whine about this, right?) and didn’t stop.  Sharon Mack from the Bangor Daily interviewed me.   Crops in crisis…

After that, Clarke someoneorother (sorry Clarke, I’m horrible with names) from the Associated Press called.  We talked about mosquitoes and black flies and the rain (more whining) in  Relentless rains mean big Northeast mosquito crop. That was a fun one.  I followed it from Fort Kent, Maine to South Carolina.

Kate Ashland (Google her, she’s a great writer) interviewed me this afternoon.  We talked about the perfect job for a middle aged woman.  Her research showed women involved in niche farming love their career.  I agreed.  The article will run in a fall issue of More magazine.  More is a mag for women 40+, which I happen to be.  I’m not holding my breath on this one too tightly until a fact checker from More and/or the editor calls me.  I am crossing my fingers.  I read More and like it a lot.

Sharon was in touch again today for another interview about farming.  That’s already out and will be in tomorrow’s Bangor Daily News.

The oldest daughter called me today.  “M (the boyfriend) Googled you.  Were you in the Boston Globe last year?  Why didn’t I know that? I felt kinda bad that I didn’t know you were in the Boston Globe.  How did that happen?”  hmmm… guess what?  Mom’s not just a mom, she’s a person too.

Market tomorrow, tractor comes Thursday, off to the shower to wash away lots of dried blood from lots of black fly bites.

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The ducks are leaving

The ducks are leaving.  Not all, but most.  C took three ducklings yesterday and will pick up another tomorrow.  R is taking four ducklings and possibly adults Wednesday.  Jj took six adults today.  That was the hard one.  We separated the mother from her ducklings.  We took three two nights ago when they went to the barn to eat without her. We took the other five early this morning.  They’re in a “chicken” tractor tonight and the mother duck has gone to Jj’s.  The ducklings are feathering out and plenty old enough to be on their own.  They’ll be penned up and safe at R’s.  Jj’s penning hers in the garden for a few weeks while they learn where they live.  They’ll be helping with pests.

There’s a mallard hen on a nest in the brush and we can’t find her.  She’s been setting for three or four days.  I need her off that nest asap.  The dogs looked for her for an hour today without any luck.   A drake is loose tonight too.  When I herded them to the barn he took a right rather than waddling left into the barn.   I wanted that duck to leave today but he wasn’t abandoning his mate.  The loyalty of our ducks to their mates amazes me. The mallards visit their mates on their nests every day.  I use them to find the nests.  Vanessa, our mis-sexed and mis-named drake, helps raise his mate’s ducklings.  When she made a second nest this year he covered the eggs while she was still filling the nest.  Loyalty is something to be admired…unless you wanted that duck to leave today.  Steve and Seb worked together to get the duck out of the pond.  For the first time in his nine years, Sebastian acted out the retriever part of labrador retriever.  We excuse his laziness in that department, he’s only half lab.  After an hour or so Seb had the art of cutting the duck off down pat.  He did a good job of keeping up with the duck but couldn’t over take him to grab him and bring him to me.  He was intent on finding the duck on land too.  I’m impressed. I’ve never seen him work so well.  He really wanted to bring that duck to me and put thought into what he was doing.  He’s been snoring for a couple of hours now. Steve put the kayak in the pond and managed to push the duck out but we lost him in the brush.  He’s a wiley, older duck.  He went into the woods.  The dogs lost him but found him again when he came out of the brush near the old pig pen. He’s so quiet we don’t hear him moving through the tall grass.  He went back to the pond.  Then into the woods on the other side, and the brush, back to the pond…you get the idea.  We lost him.  Maybe he’s with his mate?  I’m counting on them being in the pond early in the morning.

We have 13 ducks now (not counting five ducklings). I’d like to have only six ducks when I’m done but I think it’ll be closer to 10. That’s ok. It’s a lot more manageable than the 28 we had a few weeks ago.

I’ll be ordering meat chickens soon. More on that later.

I’m becoming hard hearted

I’m becoming a bit more hard hearted each year that I farm.  There was a time when I was going to be a veterinarian and save all the animals from dying. When I learned how horrendous those adorable raccoons are on poultry I agreed to hold the flashlight while Steve shot them.  I got working dogs to help keep the riff raff away so that we didn’t have to deal with these problems as often.  It bothered me.  I lost sleep with visions of dying coons falling out of trees.  I felt terrible for a long time after the bobcat growled at me and had to be shot even thought it wasn’t long from starving to death anyway. It met a much more humane death with us than Mother Nature was delivering.

I’m over it. I don’t feel bad about shooting a raccoon in the pen of Jan’s hen house this afternoon.  It had to be done. He’d been warned.  I’m sorry it didn’t die instantly but not sorry that I contributed to its death. He was grazed for raiding the hen house two nights ago. I didn’t have the best shot but considering neighboring houses and the possibility of kids in the area, I took the shot I had.  It wasn’t good enough. Harold came to finish the job with a .22 because I couldn’t shoot blindly under the hen house with a shotgun.  He came with gun and flashlight in hand.

Scooter is better. I think his shoulder was out of joint but is back in place now. We’re still going to the vet in the morning to be on the safe side.

Two loaves of bread are rising. I’ll make cream of broccoli soup with the stems left over from freezing broccoli this afternoon.

Did I mention I broke the truck yesterday?  I don’t get along with brakes lately.

A Working Dog Goes Down

58*, cloudy, 80% humidity = damp and cold.  There’s a bear trap across the street from the home the bear broke into last week.  Maybe the end is in sight. It wasn’t here last night.  That’s the third night in a row.

Scooter’s down. He’s the son half of our mother/son pair of American Working Farmcollies.  I think it’s his knee but I’m not sure.  He was at the door yesterday afternoon, barely able to walk. He stopped moving when he came through the door. I couldn’t find anything wrong. He let me pick him up which was surprising. The last time I did that I put him in the bathtub.  I put him down on his bed in the living room, gave him aspirin and called the vet.  The vet in Calais is on vacation for an extended time and the vet covering for him is on vacation.  I called the vet in Perry.  Nope, no openings today.  The dog can barely move and he’s in pain, isn’t this an emergency?  Sorry, no openings today.  We have an appointment tomorrow morning.

I thought Scooter was worse this morning so I called.  Please…look at my dog!?!  It’s surgery day, no non-surgical patients.  Please?  No, surgical patients only.  Jackass.  We’ve been going to this vet clinic for more than a decade.  When Tami Matheson opened the practice we established ourselves as clients quickly.  She treats not only pets but livestock.  She taught me a lot when we started rescuing horses.  Unfortunately she sold the practice and works in Canada only now.  I realize we’re not there very often because I tend to our dogs and cats as much as possible, but still, we are long-established clients.  I’ll apply for my Pass Card next week so that I can go back to seeing Tami. She didn’t care what time of what day we called, she was always there for us.  Since my own country won’t let me back in if I leave today I can’t go there.

I thought about taking Scooter to walk-in emergency in Bangor but decided it wasn’t that urgent after this morning’s episode of disobeying.  When I put my boots on all three dogs came to the kitchen to go out with me.  I told all of the dogs to stay in the house but Scooter heard a crow. He let himself out.  He’s in pain but if he can let himself out to bark at a crow he’s in pain I’m capable of managing.  I’ll find a roll of vet wrap for his knee and keep them all in for the day.

Memo to Bear and Moose

Attention wandering bears:

You’ve become a huge pain in my ass so it’s time to set some ground rules.

1. The back porch is not a playground.
2. 50 lb bags of chicken food, not a toy.  If you were going to break the bags open and strew one around you should have at eaten it.
3. 25 lb bags of fish food, see number 2.
4. Molasses paw prints don’t disappear from wooden porches quickly.  If you can’t control yourself and do this again, wipe your feet. You’ll have to find something other than molasses, that’s gone. Maybe Heidi and Brad have more paint you’d like to play in?

And to the moose:

1. I saw what you did to Sandy’s arbor when you were scratching velvet off your antlers. That wasn’t nice. Don’t break things here.

To all:

1. Stay out of the garden.  If you’re unable to control yourself please take note of the indentations between rows of plants.  These inventions are called paths.  They are predetermined places for your feet.  Please use them. Better yet, stay out of the garden.  It’s only an acre. Go around.
2. Stay out of the greenhouses.  I repeat, stay out.  I mean it. For your safety and my sanity, do not enter. One foot print and I’ll shoot your sorry asses.
3. Do not invite anymore friends.  Two each of you is quite enough.  Can’t you go to their farms to play now?
4. It’s a really bad year to grow vegetables. If you eat something, I’ll cry. Really. Rough year, I’ll cry. When I wipe my tears, I will shoot your sorry asses.

Any questions?  If in doubt about anything above you may wish to speak with the bobcat.  His hide is around here some where.

Sincerely,

The Management

On to farming

A bear was here,
the cat is gone,
farming sucks,
life goes on.

I can’t imagine why nobody has  offered to pay me to write poetry.

I forgot about a bucket of molasses under an upside down stack of bushel baskets on the porch.  A bear found it, rolled it off the porch thankfully, opened it and had a feast. There was at least three gallons of molasses in the bucket.  There’s a quart left and sticky foot prints on the porch.   I say “a” bear, not “the” bear because it’s not the same bear I’ve seen twice.  This bear has much smaller feet.  I woke Steve up when I discovered the mess at 5 am.  He would have woken me up rather than let me sleep in on a Sunday morning after a bear had made a mess so I returned the favor.

The cat is at the shelter.  There weren’t any extra keys to the shelter so we’ll pick it up later.  We won’t have to bring animals here, we’ll take them directly to the shelter, let ourselves in, sign the animal(s) in and put them in quarantine.  Not having to bring them back here changes a lot.  I feel better about spending my time on this.  The town will reimburse for mileage.  If it’s an occasional thing I don’t mind volunteering.  So far there have been three dogs and a cat to deal with.  I expect another dog soon.

Dad and Donna are bring my aunt and uncle out to visit this afternoon.  I hope by then the rain clouds clear up and everything dries out.

The Cat

Tiger (Yup, I named him) has been the perfect gentleman while he’s been here.  Until this morning that is.  This morning started out like the past three mornings. I let him out, pet him, make sure his crate is clean, feed and water him.  Then I go about business and he follows me around or finds a high place to get away from the dogs. They’d bathe him until his hair stands up straight if I’d let them.

I was cutting broccoli this morning when the ducks started quacking frantically.  Uh oh! The gun was in the house and the bear was back! Or not.  I rounded the corner just in time to see Tiger dart from the tall grass and give chase to three very unhappy ducks.  Hmm… This is new.

Maggie put a stop to this nonsense quickly.  She loves her cat but she likes things to be orderly.  A cat chasing her ducks is not orderly. She grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and didn’t let go while he fought and howled like a banshee.  She hung on to him with all her might – until I was three feet from reaching them.  He beat feet for the woods.  Great. Just freaking great! How does the ACO explain to anyone that she lost the cat she’s supposed to be taking care of? I had to think about this for a minute while I let Tiger calm down. Problem solved.  “Maggie, find the kitty.”

When she made her “pay attention to me because I need something” whine, which sounds amazingly like the “can you put him on the ground so I can give him a bath” whine, I went to investigate.  Once again I got there just in time to see him launch into attack.  He flew out from under the cherry trees and chased down 13  ducks like a lion chases a gazelle.  They went into the barn and he veered off in another direction when he realized Maggie was after him again.  Before I could put my hands on him he went into the barn and perched on a rafter.  He had a great view of the ducks from up there.

If we’re going to continue to be ACO the town needs to buy equipment. I need a crate large enough for one large dog and another for cats.  I need a leash or two and food and water bowls.  I’m setting limits on this now that people are dumping more animals out here.  I can be generous to a point but I’m not willing to keep footing the bill.  If the town isn’t willing to buy the proper equipment we’re going to refuse to do the job.

PAWS refused to take the cat.  They don’t have enough cages for the cats they have now.  I spoke with someone at a shelter an hour away.  He thinks they can take the cat but he didn’t have the ability to say yes.  He told me to call back in 15 minutes to talk with the manager. I think they took the phone off the hook. I’ve been calling for almost an hour.

Please – make wise decisions – spay or neuter your pets.  There’s absolutely no excuse for this. While I sit here on a beautiful, sunny afternoon trying to deal with this issue instead of working, the idiot who irresponsibly didn’t spay his cat is off the hook.  It pisses me off.

Bear Update

The bear was back this morning so I called dispatch to ask for a game warden.  When I didn’t hear back from someone quickly enough (I admit to being impatient about a bear in my yard this morning) I called the warden in Princeton.

“I have a nuisance bear.”  He laughed.  Seems a lot of us are dealing with them.  He told me it’s the end of the mating season. I thought that was back in May.  During mating season bears wander much more than usual. There’s no rhyme or reason to their path or how often they return, if they do return.  We talked a few minutes and agreed we’d talk again this afternoon.

“Keep the rifle handy and do what you have to do.”  It’s ready.  The phone rang two or three minutes later, the warden again.  If there’s a bear hunter available in the area could he send him out to run the bear? It’s training season for bear dogs.  Absolutely!  That was three and a half hours ago and I haven’t seen him yet.  He might have been busy elsewhere and will show up later, or he might not be able to come until tomorrow.

A second warden called a couple of hours ago.  Jan, he said your chicken sounds like a fox, not a bear.  The bear would eat the whole thing.  A fox will have its fill and not eat bones if it’s satisfied.  This warden feels the bear is “not a big deal.”  I stood 100′ from a bear that has a 5″ wide foot print.  It kinda is a big deal!  He told me what to do with the trash, the grill and the bird feeders (knew all that) and emphasized that it’s not a big deal.

“It’s not a big deal but keep a rifle with you.”  So when it becomes a big deal do I get out the cannon?

A nuisance bear?

I need the animal control officer!  Oh wait…that’s me.  Sorry, I don’t handle wildlife calls.

We have a bear and I suspect he’s going to be a nuisance.  While working in the garden Monday I thought I saw bear tracks in soupy mud but convinced myself it wasn’t really.  We haven’t seen a bear here in 12 years, since we first moved here.  A sow and year and a half old cub ate blueberries in our back yard at night.

Around 8:15 pm I went out to check on the foster cat, turn off the outside faucet and feed the ducklings. The barn ducks were acting up. Scooter visited with the cat while I walked behind the barn to see what was wrong. I looked around and there it was at the other end of the 100′ rows of potatoes. I’ve never been scared of a bear before but this one turned me on my heels for the house fast. I can’t repeat what I said before I called Scooter to come to the house with me.

When I got to this side of the barn I ran back in the house, yelled to Steve, grabbed the camera (you knew I was gong back out, right?) and went out. I could hear it going into the woods behind the big greenhouse. Steve came out and we stood quietly to listen. Nothing. Everyone knows if you yell you’ll scare a bear away. They’re shy animals unless you meet up with a sow and her cubs.  Not this time. I thought it was gone. We headed out to the back of the potatoes to look for tracks. When we were almost there the bear crashed through the woods. *I* do not scare easily in the woods but there’s something not quite right about a bear that doesn’t leave the area. “Come on, Steve, that bear shouldn’t still be here.” He didn’t pay attention. He wanted to see it. I went 10′, turned around and said, “Seriously Steve, this isn’t safe.” CRASH went the bear. In .039 seconds Steve was right behind me!

The neighbor .2 miles from us called about 20 minutes later. He was in her driveway. We drove over but he was gone. We went another .3 miles past her home to turn around and missed him. When we got home Steve went in the house and I headed for the rabbitry to close it up. Cat is in there in his crate. I didn’t make it! The bear is right across the street. He’s upset. We can hear him huffing very loudly!

The faucet is still on.  It’s going to drip for the night.  This explains the commotion I heard two nights ago. I’m missing three ducks.    I blamed it on an owl.  The ducks are now locked in the barn. It might also explain why my dogs refuse to go out after sunset. In the morning I’ll call the warden to talk about this.  I think I’d like to have the bear trapped and moved.  Passing through is one thing.  Coming back is another.

An Unclaimed Cat

Nobody seems to be missing him.  I hate to take him to PAWS but if he isn’t claimed by Friday that’s where he’ll be.  He’s not neutered, has double paws and has been declawed.

Ducks

I have ducks that need new homes.  And I need electronet to stop them from wandering off to hide nests in places I never see.  Scooter was hunting rodents in tall grass the other day and came upon a nest.  From the sounds of them, both Scoot and duck were startled.  Simone and Garfunkle’s parents had a nest with nine eggs.  She’s given up her search for her nest but he still waddles around quacking and searching.

I have a pair of chocolate runners, a blue runner drake, a pair of black and white runners and mallard and mallard crosses. There are nine ducklings too.  Six look like mallards, three look like fawn and white mallards. The ducks that don’t go to new homes will go to the freezer.  Be a hero! Save a duck! =8^)

In spite of the cold, damp wind and losing the front brakes in slow-moving traffic on the drive in, I had a good day at market yesterday.  There were only two vegetable vendors so we sold out in less than two hours.  The first hour was crazy.  I sent a note out to my friends who help me saying, “it’ll be slow, if you have something else to do or just want to stay in for the day, please do!”  Ooops.  Janice came in after the rush and we had time for a nice visit between customers.  Children were the high point of the day.  One three year old girl waited patiently for her Grampa to come over (he had the money) so that she could buy five peas.  She waited her turn in line and let the person behind her step ahead of her each time “Grampa’s not here yet.”  Grampa bought a pound of peas for her even though he’d already purchased five pounds of peas from Ted.  She bought a pound of beets too.  That’s my kinda kid!  The second little girl was four. She kept looking at the last head of cauliflower.  By then I was down to sage, mint and that one cauliflower and I was pretty sure that cauliflower was going to be on my supper table.  When Mom asked her if she was ready to go she turned and very deliberately, very slowly, very thoughtfully said, “I think that’s something I’ll eat.”  Mom bought the cauliflower and I made suggestions on how to cook it so that Miss I Think That’s Something I’ll Eat really will eat it.  Mashed with butter and sprinkled with cheese looks good to a lot of kids.  It’s my favorite way!

I drove down the side of the road about 200 yards and left my vehicle at the garage after market.  I’m hoping to pick it up first thing tomorrow morning.  This is the third brake line we’ve replaced in two years. Before the state started using calcium chloride on the roads in winter we never had this problem.

Guess what?  It’s raining.