We Do What We Can

 Concord Point Lighthouse, Havre de Grace, Maryland

Having been born near the Chesapeake and then living at the Headwaters of the Chesapeake Bay for over 20 years, Crabs are just a part of summer.  Perfect Summer Day:  A table covered in newspaper, cold beverages, a bushel of perfectly seasoned Blue Crabs and time.  You can spend all day picking crabs and talking and drinking.  Your lips and tongue burn from the spices.

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Now that we live so far inland Crabs are harder to come by.  But we manage.

Supposedly I am saving those three for Ronny.  In theory they will be here when he gets home from his West Virginia run.  But if they should not be here when he returns, hypothetically it will be because I ate them.

Anthropomorphism Run A-cluck

I often find people difficult to understand.  "Why did they do/say that?"  I will ask.  I am fortunate enough to have friends who will explain to me the motives behind people's actions, but I have learned the most by watching my poultry.

Biddies
The expression "Biddy" has the primary meaning of  "chicken," but by the late 18th century "biddy" had been adopted as a derogatory slang term for women.  I will tell you why.  On any given day, the young pullets will be minding their own business, pecking and just wandering around thinking young chicken thoughts, when for absolutely no reason at all an old biddy hen will run across the yard to peck at her.  Why does she do this?  To remind the young hen who is Boss.  In the chicken world the Boss goes first and gets the best.  I propose that Old Biddy Women have the same motivation when they "peck", gossiping in whispers behind their hands.  They are trying to remind those "beneath them" of their place.  Not exactly a flattering bit of conduct, but there you are.  

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Young Pullets
As we have discussed, the Biddy Hens have higher ranking in the Poultry World.  They get the best spots on the roost, the best waterer, the best feeder.  And if you forget they will remind you.  Well, the pullets know this, but they cannot help themselves.  Whenever the Old Biddies are not looking they will go in the hen house and jump up on the Biddy Roost and laugh and play and thumb their beaks at the Old Biddies.  This lasts until the Queen sees what is going on, then there is chaos and clucking and a chorus of cacophony.

This behavior reminds me of younger children in a family being fascinated by whatever the older children have.  That is why they MUST sneak in the older child's room.  They MUST touch their things, read their diaries, poke through their most precious possessions.  They cannot help themselves, just as the older child, upon discovering this usurpation, must run in put an end to it.  The established order must be maintained.

Duck World

All was well in the Garden of Mixed Poultry.  The Biddies and the Young Hens and the Ducks all coexisted in relative peace and harmony until the drake discovered S-E-X.  Not content with his own God Appointed Species Specific Mate, he viciously attacked the young hens (no biddies for him!) and attempted to create "duckens."  The Master of the Garden (Ronny) could not tolerate such aberrant behavior and the ducks were cast out of the Garden, and the shining metal of a fence was erected to keep them out.  The pair looked longingly at their former home, the drake pacing tirelessly along the boundary, hoping some innocent young bird would get too close to the fence and he could reach out and have his way with her.  I need not tell you the equivalent in human behavior.  It is all too clear.  From now on, whenever I might have said, "Men are such dogs," I shall instead say "Men are such Ducks!" and mean every word of it.

How Slow Can You Go?

Isn't it funny
how when you haven't any money
time seems to flow slow
like molasses or honey?

That's how it's been all this week.  No money.  No McDonald's treats.  No even leaving the driveway because that would mean I would have to put gas in the truck.  This is seriously cramping my style.  I have a rabbit hutch to build for permanent lodging of my bun-buns.  I have Indian Runner babies that are expecting me to go purchase them.  I have chicken feed calling my name from Carson's Market.  I have a local economy to support, people!

Well, I guess it'll all have to wait until tomorrow. 

www.onehourloan.com

Watch out, world!  The Truck Floozy is on the loose again!

Team Sport (with Update)

Yesterday, while doing dishes,  I happened to look out the kitchen window and see The Gang of Three loose in the garden.

 
You may be familiar with the fact that I have six young pullets, about 3 1/2 months old.  At a certain point they discovered they could fly and promptly did so to all sorts of lovely places:  the top of the feed bin, the roof of the hen house, the lid of the duck feeder.  They had started to fly to the top of the garden gate and sit there, at which point I employed aversion therapy (a nice blast of water from the hose).  Hens are not easily dissuaded, however, and they took a group vote and decided that they would rather be in the garden.  Thus began a series of regular flights over the fence.  I was able to catch three of them and clip their wings but that left The Gang of Three, who proved to be difficult to catch and rebellious to the core.

If you have ever engaged in the Sport of Chicken Chasing you may be aware that this is often a solitary sport:  individual human pitted against individual chicken.  The chicken has all the advantage.  She is fast, small, and evil.  After a solo attempt at rounding up and catching these rebels, I called for reinforcements.  Craig came out in his chicken boots, I grabbed a sheet, and together we cornered the escapees and trapped them under the sheet.  A few snips later and two tamed hens were released back over the fence.  But the Leader was not to be outwitted and she flew up over the fence of her own accord and blended in with the crowd so I would not know which was she!

I'll get you yet, my pretty!  And your little wing, too!

www.virginmedia.com

Update:  The Rebellious One got out and was disciplined by both The Drake and The Queen through the fence!  The Drake grabbed her by the neck and held her down and The Queen pecked at her with disdain!  I threw a jacket over her, scooped her up and snip-snip put an end to her wandering ways!  

First Egg and Other Bits

It's fuzzy, I know, but the egg on the right, the shiny brown one, is the first egg from Somebody.  First eggs are so cute--they are so tiny and you just want to pinch their cheeks!  And to Somebody's credit, she is a precocious thing, because she is only three and a half months old!  Most hens don't lay before hitting four months.  Isn't she special? 

In other egg-citing news, one of Ronny's breakfast eggs was a double yolker!

http://www.poultry.allotment.org.uk/Chicken_a/assets/double-yolk-egg.jpg


And, last but not least, I have recently read that it once was believed that "witches could sail in an egg shell, a cockle or muscle shell, through and under the tempestuous seas."  Thus people were encouraged to break egg shells completely after use so that no witch would make use of the object.


EGG-SHELLS
By Elizabeth Fleming

Oh, never leave your egg-shells unbroken in the cup;
Think of us poor sailor- men and always smash them up,
For witches come and find them and sail away to sea,
And make a lot of misery for mariners like me.

They take them to the sea-shore and set them on the tide-
A broom-stick for a paddle is all they have to guide-
And off they go to China or round the ports of Spain,
To try and keep our sailing ships from coming home again.

They call up all the tempests from Davy Jones's store,
And blow us into waters where we haven't been before;
And when the masts are falling in splinters on the wrecks,
The witches climb the rigging ropes and dance upon the decks.

So never leave your egg-shells unbroken in the cup;
Think of us poor sailor-men and always smash them up;
For witches come and find them and sail away to sea.
And make a lot of misery for mariners like me.


It's a good thing that this is a myth or I would be in trouble:

I'm having a thought,,,,no, it's gone

It's not all livestock and gardens here at the farm. Sometimes we think Deep Thoughts and have Small Revelations where light bulbs actually appear over our heads!  (CFL bulbs only, please!)

I had such an A-Ha! moment on Tuesday when I was doing my Bible Study and meeting preparation.  I was reading paragraph 19, page 74, of  "Come, Be My Follower", and this sentence jumped out at me: "Are you facing a severe test of faith at the present time?"  My initial mental answer was going to be a rather cursory "no", but then insight kicked in.  I scribbled in the margins (which is where my insights live):  "You are and you don't even know it!  It is your faith being tested!  Do you believe in the Truth enough to go out in service?" 

Wow!  So, so it's not really anxiety or depression or lethargy or catatonia.  Well, it is, but the fact of the matter is that these are really tests of my faith.  Will I just submit to them, stop fighting against them, or fight to a certain point and then accept a sort of stalemate?  I think that is what I have done.  I was reasoning to myself, "Self, you are are still going to meetings.  You think about Jehovah.  You study some of the time.  You are not inactive or irregular in your ministry.  That's good enough."  Oh, no!  Stupid, stupid me!  Of course it is not good enough! 

I cannot accept such contraints, restraints, whatever-straints upon my faith.  If I do, well, faith without works is dead.  Actions speak louder than words.  (Feel free to add your own proverbial saying.)  I know, you are saying, "Laura, um, didn't you have this revelation a month ago?  I seem to recall your Post "Heart of The Matter"  on June 7th discussed this very thing."  I will admit it seems the same.  But the difference is that I had attributed the matter to my Emotional State.  I had not seen it was A Test of My Faith.  The Diagnosis affects the Treatment.  If the problem is my head, well, I take meds for that.  I think about how to straighten out my thinking.  But, if the Problem is my Heart, My Seat of Motivation, that requires something else.

I have committed a rather familiar sin of putting faith in myself, in my meds, to help me. " I can straighten myself out, thank you!"  Well, you know what, I can't.  Only Jehovah can help me.  "For all things I have the strength by virtue of him who imparts power to me."  (Philippians 4:13)  "..that the power beyond what is normal may be God's and not that of ourselves"  (2 Corinthians 4:7)  So, I've got to stop relying on myself and my own devices and EXERCISE my faith in Jehovah.  I may have to start out walking a half block just to get my muscles warmed up, but hopefully I will be jogging my faith in no time. 

Excuse me, I've got to get out my Faith sneakers and stretch. 

Rain

After finishing our fencing efforts, Craig and Ron went off to the Music Store while I did some housework.  While I was vacuuming it had become quite cloudy, but it was not until I turned off the vacuum that I heard the plunk! of rain on the bathroom roof.  

I had to run outside to shut the windows on the truck.  The air was cool and wet and smelled of damp leaves.  The chickens were all huddled under a tree;  the ducks paraded up and down the fence line gossiping loudly.  (Those ducks are the worst busybodies!)  


Rain on the green grass,
And rain on the tree,
And rain on the housetop,
But not on me.

Once back inside, the power hiccuped and then all too quickly the rain was gone.  
Total Bummer. 

Adventures in Fencing

Nothing makes this place more farmlike than the continued expansion of fenced areas.  Digging post holes, rolling out the wire, sweating from every pore of your body.  That's farming, son.

So, when Ronny had broken out the chain saw by 8 AM and started clearing some trees in the woods I knew that fencing was imminent.  I made breakfast:  waffles and homemade jam.  Got dressed in my grubbiest clothes.  As usual, not a half hour into the actual stringing of fence wire, we discovered that we would need more posts and some stakes and some rope.  The third trip to Lowes this week was made with barely any muttering on my part and then work resumed. 

As we finished up with setting the posts and putting tension on them to support the fencing better, the chickens came into the new area and pecked and scratched with abandon!  Nothing makes a chicken happier than new ground!  Craig can even watch them out his bedroom window, lucky boy.

Eventually the ducks will get moved into this area, as it is shady, and the parched desert space will be re- purposed for something else.  Ronny wants to put the permanent quarters for the rabbits under the tree where the duck pool is now.  I think they would like it there. 

When I look around the back yard now and compare it to just over a year ago, I have to admit that I'm impressed with what we've done. Not in a prideful way, but just that we've done something and we've done it well.  It works.  It supports life.  It is productive.  I'm good with that.

What's Up, Doc?

The above image may give you an idea of how I looked at 7 AM as I tried to track down my loose lagomorpha.  She had found the one weak spot in the fencing and taken a powder.  There she is--under the wheelbarrow!  No, behind the shovel!  Wait!  Under the stairs!  Matters (and rabbits) were taken in hand, however, and order was restored in my backyard kingdom.  The exit point was blocked temporarily, and all prisoners were returned to their cells.

Until the young hens jumped the fence and ran around the garden laughing at me....I'll get you yet, you cwazy cwitters!

White Rabbits

I regret to say that the new additions to our farm family have neither waistcoat nor pocket watch.  They are a tad aloof, easily startled, and remind me, rather oddly, of cattle at pasture.

We had talked about adding rabbits for almost a year, and Ronny gave the go ahead yesterday.  Faster than Ricochet Rabbit I was on Craigslist and found some meat rabbits just over in Gladys.  After a hot, steamy ride to pick up feed, litter, and lunch we found our destination on Red House Road.  It was a REAL farm, folks, with hogs and ducks and rabbits and quail and cows and who knows what!  I was taken to their rabbitry, which I shall not disparage other than to say I have seen many people keep their rabbits thusly and I am glad mine shall live differently.    After a lesson in the identification of rabbit genitalia we packed my choices into some bread boxes and went on our merry way.

While I constructed their more permanent home, the rabbits took up temporary residence in the duck house.  The ducks did not think much of the arrangement and made many loud protests, marching out front and chanting in opposition.  Kitty, who has never shown any interest at all in any of our livestock, sat in attack crouch for over an hour, tail twitching, watching.

I repurposed the brooder box, yet again, and put it up under the back steps.  I ran hardware cloth all round the sides of the under-deck and constructed an impressive (*snort*) gate/door so I can gain full access to the area.  I filled the hutch with wood shavings, which some sources do not recommend, added a heavy water bowl, a heavy feed bowl and two beautiful rabbits.

Can you see the charcoal smudge on the nose?  The ears have that same sort of  beautiful suggestion of color.  They are very shy but I am working on their social skills as I need to be able to handle them regularly.  I try to handle all the animals, although the ducks are an exception.  If we were correct in our gender verification procedures, hopefully we will have some kits soon, at which time I will have to have additional quarters for the buck. 

Eventually I would love to have this beauty!

Impressive, eh?

Here's hoping all goes well!

Gotta Keep 'em Seperated

News Flash: 
My drake is a pervert.  Ronny caught him trying to mount one of the three month old Golden Comet Pullets.  He had her by the neck and was, to quote the eyewitness, "biting her really hard."  While neck grabbing is a part of the duck mating ritual, I hasten to point out that we have crossed a barrier here.  We do not mate ducks and chickens.  I am not sure what the result would be, but we have no desire to see it here at Good Enough Farm. 
So, to keep all members of the family happy we have invested in some more fencing and starting today we will have to divide our poultry. 

There are no illustrations of the goings on today as they are not fit for human consumption.  We apologize to all those we have offended.  You may now resume your busy day.  

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Duct Tape

                  

There are many jokes in existence about duct tape and all its fabulous uses.  I have seen it advertised as a 
Relationship Therapist,

Fashion Design Material,

and something to ease awkward social situations.

  
I have used it in the last day for more mundane concerns.  I used it in the duct work in my house to seal up leaks.  Our house is 16 years old this year and it is starting to show some wear and tear.  (*snort*!)   Apparently the sealant of choice when connecting the in house vent shaft to the under house duct work was foil tape.  I'm sure it served well for a few years, but this year upon close inspection with sensitive fingertips, it was revealed that it is no longer serving.  Short of crawling under the house (icky cricket spiders!!!!) some intervention was called for.  I removed all the vent covers and felt into where the main shaft and the vent shaft met.  I would say 75% of them were not well connected, leaving gaps and in one case a hole.  Now I don't begrudge the cricket spiders their air conditioning down there in the crawlspace.  I only ask that they share with us up here.  So I tore and taped and taped and tore and within about half an hour had really made a difference in the air flow. 

Eventually I will have to go under the house.  But when I do I will be prepared. 

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The Chicken Disciple Struts Her Stuff

                 
At 8:30 this morning my friend, the Chicken Disciple, called me with urgent news.  "We have a Rooster!  It won't stop crowing!  I think we have to kill it!  I'm not prepared for this!"  I pulled out my teacher's hat and gave appropriate advice for the occasion involving the sharpness of axes and the hillbilly version of a killing cone.
I told her that if she needed me I would come by after the meeting and assist in the butchering.

I was assured at the Kingdom Hall that the butchering had taken place.  I countered:  "You have killed it, not butchered it.  You still need to pluck the feathers and remove the innards.  I will be happy to show your children how to do this."  The children seemed curiously unenthusiastic about the prospect, but I was invited over for a mid afternoon adventure.

I arrived wearing my chicken butchering apron and my poop shoes.  I was ushered indoors and happy to see that they were preparing to boil water. In my experience, hot water is sufficient for a small number of birds.  The hottest that your water heater will produce.  I demonstrated this, and with six hands on deck short work was made of the feathers.

The Disemboweling was next, which is actually my favorite part.  I was pleased to see The Chicken Disciple's Mate  happily take up knives and, so to speak, dig in.  His hands were too large however for the real work, which involves a hand in each end of the corpse gently detaching the innards from the flesh.  When her hands came out full of "awful"  we cheered!  No bowel was nicked, no oil glands offended, and no bile ducts trespassed against.

http://media.photobucket.com/image/poultry%20anatomy%20diagram/eggcetra_farms/chicken_anatomy.jpg

The whole process took just under an hour.  By the time I left she was looking forward to a meat bird purchase so she could do it all again.  I have created a monster.

But I was paid handsomely with fruits of the garden and the heart.

Thank you, Chicken Disciple, for being my friend.

Truck Floozy

Today I spent money on my truck and the farm.  It's the same thing as spending money on myself, but somehow it's less selfish.  You may recall that the first thing I did when the truck was made mine was to place my bobble head snail on the dashboard.  There he is.  I love my snail.

The bench seat has had a huge rip in it since we bought it but I have just covered it up with a sheet and called it done.  But today I was in Walmart and I saw a bench seat cover for a good price and bought it.  Without a Second Thought.  Since I was obviously on a spending spree I threw a small console organizer in the cart because the truck does not even have cup holders.  I know. (I actually installed the seat cover in the parking lot because it is that kind of Walmart.)

Now that the orgy of spending had begun I went to the Garden Center and seized four medium sized bags of potting soil.  I shoved three huge rudbeckia in around it all, and had the nerve to ask a complete stranger to hand me a diet Dr. Pepper out of the cooler.  I was brazen.

This profligate spending continued as I cooled Craig down with a Hot Fudge Sundae and a large diet Coke, and restocked my chicken feed from Carson's.  Exhausted from such an excess of  consumption I motored on home, rudbeckia standing tall in the truck bed, blowing in the wind.   

When I got home Ronny was there and I had to confess to him my Wastrel Ways.  I am, I said, a Truck Floozy.

He forgave me.  I think the fact I was waving a pizza in front of him might have had something to do with it.

Freezer Jam

Okay, so I know I said this was not a cooking blog.  Before you start, however, I must tell you this is NO COOK Freezer Jam.  C'mon.  How much simpler can it get?

Food Lion had huge containers of strawberries waiting at the front door of the store.  I really wanted to do something good with them, but was kind of strawberried out from my orgy of them earlier this year.  Fiona at Rowangarth Farm had a great post about Freezer Jam, so I hunted through the aisles until I found where they hid the pectin and such.  I bought cute little containers and went on home!

I was very nervous about the project because people who write instructions do not know me.  They listed the ingredients, showed little pictures for each step and then concluded with the words "let sit for 30 minutes to thicken."  I looked in vain for the reassurance of the words "Put in freezer."  I know it's freezer jam, but you don't understand my head.  I need for it to Say It!  I was in a horrible anxiety attack because the freezer jam did not tell me to put it in the freezer!

I had to go online and look up a video from Ball which I did not have the patience to download and watch.  I found the helpful advice from another neurotic like myself who assured me that it did, in fact, go in the freezer, although it could be kept in the refrigerator for immediate use.

Thank you, Fellow Neurotic.  Thank you.

Scratch 'n Sniff

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It has been almost a month since I have had use of my truck.  This means I have been "confined at home", puttering about.  I have played with the chickens.  I have watered our new grass in an attempt to save it, then watched it wither and die anyway.  I declared the beans and peas done and fed the dried vines to the hens.  I hemmed some of Craig's pants.  I read three books.  I looked in the mailbox in vain for issues of Mother Earth or Countryside. 

But Today my Truck was Fixed.

It was evening by then and we all piled into the car and drove to Gladys, which is a place, not a person.  I wish my blog was scratch and sniff.  The air was sweet with dry field grass, wildflowers and distant smoke.  It was strong and pure and it filled the car with peace.  It made me think of the verse that says, "And the incense means the prayers of the holy ones."  I felt like the whole earth was praising Jehovah with the perfume of his creation.

After we picked up the truck we drove home in the dusk.  The breeze was cool and sweet through the windows.  We listened to the low hum of the engine and the calm calls of birds in the woods.  We came home and put the hens to bed. 

It was a good day. 

Monday, Monday

I was looking forward this morning to sleeping in and getting caught up with laundry and cleaning, miscellaneous and sundry.  This was not to be.  Craig, having been accustomed to getting up at 6:30 AM for the District Convention, continued this practice.  While he made an effort to be quiet, I could not block out the little *click*click*tap sounds of his game controller coming from his playroom. (I know.  I am the auditory equivalent of the Princess and the Pea.)

So I got up and let out my poultry playmates, watched some news, made breakfast and ran thru my daily internet routine of checking my email, BBC News, Facebook, Barnheart.  I then heard a noise on the front porch and said, "NOOOOOO!!!!!"  


Flashback:  On Friday Afternoon of the District Convention Gail mentioned that no one was going out in service on Monday and she needed to go out.  I said I would go out with her.  Now, by Saturday I was regretting this promise and by Sunday afternoon I was actively seeking a way out.  In a conversation with Rennie, she mentioned that Mike wanted to go out on Monday Morning.  I said, "Oh, Good!  He can take my place with Gail.  Could you call her and let her know?"  Then I thought no more about it.


Turns out we were playing Post Office, and the message Gail got was that Mike would work with her if I backed out.  Well, I thought that was what I had successfully done!  RATS!  


I have now learned what it means at Jeremiah 20:7:  " You have fooled me, O Jehovah, so that I was fooled.  You used your strength against me, so that you prevailed."  Man, Jehovah is really hard to outwit!  



http://www.pixelsurgeon.com/interviews/interview.php?id=144

What does it mean?

JI have spent an hour trying to upload scanned images of the new publications from the District Convention.  They would not upload as jpg.  I downloaded two programs to convert an image to HTML to try to do it that way.  The first one was in German so I scrapped that.  The second one came up with such a long string of code for just one of the images that my computer froze and I had to CTRL Alt Del it just to regain control.  Then since that was a bust, I took pics with my digital camera and downloaded them to my computer and then uploaded them to blogger.  I was almost done with my post when the computer inexplicable *blinked* and took me back to my start page.  I came back here, where it should have automatically saved, and it was fresh and blank as the new fallen snow.

I have decided that posting pictures of new publications is Against The Divine Will.  If you want to see them, I guess you'll just have to go to the Convention.

So, instead of my originally intended post I offer for your perusal the following:

Words of Wisdom from Craig Overhead from Another Room:

"Never Taste Soap.  That's Rule Number One."

http://www.nickjr.co.uk/shows/blues/media/soap.gif

                        'Nuff said.

Shaggy and Bread

In preparation for the Convention, I  made bread on Wednesday night so we would have sandwich bread.  Unlike my Circuit Assembly Bread, which did not rise properly, this came out very well.  Sometimes it doesn't pay to buy the store brand.  I think I will stick with the time tested Fleishmann's. 

Also in preparation, Craig needs to be hosed down and shaved.  He announced that he had begun to resemble a famous cartoon character, and it was time to remedy the situation.  What do you think? 

Finally, Ronny exerted himself to go in to work early so I could have use of the car this evening (the truck being down yet again!) to pick up some few items to pack for the Convention.  Family traditions require Pudding, Diet Coke, Deviled Ham or PBJ, and Chips. 

Hoping to get some sleep tonight, and be bright eyed and busy tailed for tomorrow!