A City Chicken Farm

Hoop House Line-Up

2011-10-13T12:27:00.000-07:00

We've had a busy summer! Even though things stayed cool this year, we harvested a HUGE amount of produce from the front yard. These pictures are only a small representation of the bounty we have enjoyed.

Yay for eggplant! This was our first year seriously trying out eggplant and peppers, and they were both a tremendous success. Thank you hoop house!

We grew four varieties of eggplant and four varieties of peppers, sweet and hot, and everything was successful. The peppers didn't turn red until they were picked (more on that later), but the flavor has been awesome. As for the eggplant, we had to give tons of it away because there was just so much!

Who knew we could get actual raspberries the same year we planted canes? These went in early in the spring (March to be exact), and they started producing ripe berries in September. We're still harvesting them this week. I expect they'll continue until the first frost hits, which we expect to see in the next two weeks.

Have you been thinking about constructing a hoop house for your garden? We're still harvesting ripe tomatoes off the vine, and once they're out we'll use the plastic to cover one of the winter crop beds. Hoop houses and cold frames are a great way to extend the season in your area, and they allow you to grow hot weather plants in the cool Pacific Northwest.

The Spring Buzz

2011-06-09T09:02:00.000-07:00

We installed our first package of bees on May 10th, and they've been busy buzzing away since then! I worried, as I always do with new things, that something would go wrong, but our hive appears to be strong and healthy, and they're making solid progress.

These pictures were taken three weeks ago, and there's even more comb development now. The bees clustered around the queen (who is marked and has been seen recently), so I switched a few of the frames to spread them out. They started out all on one side of the hive.

Look at all the beautiful new comb they've built! For those of you who raise bees, yes, we're letting them go wild with the comb building, and I probably should have cut some of this off, but I simply couldn't bear to destroy something so gorgeous.

Up close and personal, each individual bee is doing her own thing. During inspection they hardly notice that you're watching them. They keep working, building, dancing, and buzzing along.

Clusters of adult bees protect young larvae from the chill of being exposed to the spring air. We try to observe our hive on warm, sunny days at about 2:00 PM when the workers are out gathering pollen and nectar.

Capped brood comb is a good sign! Bees only live for about 45 days, so they really need to start that next generation of youngsters quickly.

Sometimes the girls get a little creative with where they build comb. This bit was attached to the inside of the inner hive cover (I flipped it upside down when I removed it from the hive). I had to scrape this bit off with the hive tool, but it wasn't a tremendous loss to them. The real bonus was getting our first taste of honey from our own bees!! Sure, it tasted mostly like the sugar water we're feeding them, but it's the thought that counts.

Is anyone else starting off with bees this year?

Raquel's Raspberry Bed

2011-05-09T07:15:00.001-07:00

Raquel took ill Friday evening. I found her sitting with the younger hens in the coop, something she would never have done if healthy. Raquel was always at the top of the pecking order in our flock, and she's pecked everybody in the household including me. I brought her inside for a checkup, and I found that she was covered in poo. This happens sometimes when a chicken gets too weak to stand or move. It's terribly undignified. I bathed her in the sink and gave her a blow dry, then carried her back to the coop to be with her friends. She was worse on Saturday. I kept her in isolation in the mud room for a few hours, but she didn't last long.

We don't know what claimed Raquel's life; possibly an impacted crop or something she ate. I held her at the end when she thrashed her way out of this world, and it still hurts to think of her suffering.

Raquel would have been two years old in just a couple of months. She had a crooked toe, a wicked sharp beak, and was the fattest chicken we had ever seen. She will be sorely missed. In her honor, the newly built raspberry bed will be named Raquel, and we'll think of her each season when the new shoots come up in spring.

Monsanto et al

2011-04-20T19:12:00.000-07:00

I haven't had time to blog, but that doesn't mean I haven't had time to engage in all things garden and seed. I'm currently taking a class that requires the production of a term paper, the topic of our own choosing, to be completed throughout the course (which teaches you how to write a term paper, essentially). Sure, I know how to write up college papers, but everybody needs an "easy A" class once in a while. Gimme a break.

My topic is Seed Monopolies. The above chart represents the major seed companies and all the little distribution companies each one owns or is tied to in one way or another. Scary. This is originally from an article on The Ecologist, Revealed: how seed market is controlled by Monsanto, Syngenta, Bayer, Dow & DuPont, published in October of 2010. According to the article, this "graphic illustrates how just five biotech giants have increased their control of the global seed market, promoting monoculture farming and making it harder for farmers to find alternative sources of seeds."

Where Did the Time Go?

2011-02-17T10:54:00.000-08:00

I am all apologies today, folks. I know. It's been forever. I blame college. This quarter (sixteen credits at school plus full time work) has been really rough. I'm thick in midterms at the moment (please don't ask about my Statistics midterm last night), and there are only four weeks left in the quarter. Registration for Spring quarter is next Tuesday. Seriously. Where the heck did the months go?? Sitting at my computer today, I realize now that I have spent next to no time at all doing the things I enjoy since classes started in the first week of the new year. Somehow the house isn't a total wreck (credit is due to the best girlfriend in the world) and the chickens haven't starved. Still, I feel like I'm on some sort of uphill grind, and I really can't stop to look at the scenery until I've pushed to the top.

What have you missed? Not a whole lot. It's winter, after all. The chickens stopped laying for a while (I'm sure you remember the whining last fall), they started again with a vengeance, a langstroth bee hive arrived in the mail, I learned to knit, a few snowdrops and crocuses and the tips of garlic are up in the garden, and the annual Flower and Garden Show is next weekend. Of course I meant to write about a lot of that stuff. Still, sleeping is far more attractive than spending another hour in front of a computer upright.

And I apologize again, but I now need to finish some homework, clean up the house, apply to Western Washington University, pick out my classes for Spring quarter at EvCC, eat lunch, and zip off to work.

I miss boredom.

The Completed Gingerbread Farm

2010-12-27T08:38:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas everyone!

Sides and roof.

Fences and naked animals. Oooh, naked!!

Keep those barn doors shut!

Construction, phase 1.

So far, so good.

Looking tidy!

The roof tried to slide quite a bit. Need stronger icing.

A simple cow shed for the neighbors.

Decorate, decorate, decorate!

Good fences make good snacks.

The pig corral is complete!

The rest of these shots were taken only moments before a violent earthquake caused a major cave-in of the roof and walls. No animals were harmed.... until I got hungry.

Free range chickens on the lawn.

Two belted galloway cattle held up the roof for a little while.

Farmer Me!

A turkey shares the pig pen.

I hope your holiday was filled with cookies, too!

Let's Have a Ginger Barn Raising!

2010-12-22T10:18:00.000-08:00

Christmas this year is going to be simple and quiet. The last few winters have been very hectic, so we're extremely happy to have a simple one to celebrate. No snow, no plane rides, no painting the living room and dining room, no puppies in need of potty training, and most importantly, NO WORK! It's not often that I get weekends and holidays off in my job, so I try to savor them while they're around. I've been super lucky to get extended in my current position, which I've been in since April of this year. Perks include the aforementioned weekends and holidays off, decent working hours, and the ability to commute by train. All this fun won't last, though. I'm back in the ranks of uniformed blue collar labor as of the first of the new year.

But until that happens, it's time for holidays!

Tonight I'll start things off by prepping cookie dough. Gingerbread and sugar cookie dough needs to chill before baking, so it can be made ahead of time. Tomorrow I'll be baking the main body of a gingerbread farm, complete with cow shed and grain silo (I hope). Friday, Christmas Eve, is the cookie bake-a-thon! We've got animal cookie cutters for everything a gingerbread farm needs. I've always wanted to make a gingerbread house during the holidays, but I never make time for it. This year, I'm going all out. Who wants a gingerbread house when you can build a farm??

If you'd like to join me in cookie farming, below are recipes and building instructions (from http://www.bhg.com/holidays/christmas/gingerbread-houses/a-gingerbread-farm/). Let's make some icing!

Don't forget to raise your own cookie cows, sheep, goats, pigs, chickens, turkeys, llamas, donkeys, horses, and veggie crops!

Gingerbread Urban Farm Cookies

Ingredients

6 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 tablespoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground cloves (optional)
2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 cup shortening, melted and cooled slightly
3/4 cup molasses
1 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup water
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Sift together the dry ingredients and set aside. In a medium bowl, mix together the shortening, molasses, brown sugar, water, egg, and vanilla until smooth. Gradually stir in the dry ingredients, until they are completely absorbed. Divide dough into 3 pieces, pat down to 1 1/2 inch thickness, wrap in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 3 hours or overnight.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out to 1/4 inch thickness. Cut into desired shapes with cookie cutters. Place cookies 1 inch apart onto an ungreased cookie sheet. (If you're making a barn, silo, house, or cow shed, use the blueprints above and cut the doors and windows with a knife. Leave them in place to cook and remove them after everything is cool.) Bake for 10 to 12 minutes in the preheated oven (and remember that larger pieces may take longer). When the cookies are done, they will look dry, but still be soft to the touch. Remove from the baking sheet to cool on wire racks. When cool, the cookies can be frosted with the icing of your choice.

Makes 1 barn-sized serving

Sugar Cookie Urban Livestock

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups butter, softened
2 cups white sugar
4 eggs
1 tspn vanilla extract
5 cups all-purpose flour
2 tspn baking powder
1 tspn salt

In a large bowl, cream together butter and sugar until smooth. Beat in eggs and vanilla. Stir in the flour, baking powder, and salt. Cover, and chill dough for at least one hour (or overnight). Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Roll out dough on floured surface 1/4 to 1/2 inch thick. Cut into shapes with a floured cookie cutter. Place cookies 1 inch apart on ungreased cookie sheets. Bake 6 to 8 minutes in preheated oven. Cool completely. To stand farm animals up, glue them with icing to the half-round in the blueprints above.

Makes 4 herds (dozen)

The Seed Catalog of My Dreams

2010-12-16T10:12:00.000-08:00

If you haven't gotten on the mailing list for a seed catalog from Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds, let me tell you why you should.

Have you ever seen a Backpacker tomato?

Seed catalogs get gardeners through the cold months, the rain, the snow, the wind, and the lack of eggs from lazy chickens. Right about now, when the last few struggling plants have blackened and shriveled back into the mulch that covered their roots through the first freezing nights and blankets of snow, the mind of a city farmer turns to thoughts of spring.

Our trusty Subaru beneath a cozy blanket of snow. Heated seats and all-wheel drive make snow like this a pure joy.

Well, almost every city farmer thinks of spring. There are many weeks to get to that phase, and in the meantime..... I love winter. It's such a wonderful season of darkness and slowing down (when we can), of warm fires and hot chocolate, baking and simmering, twinkling lights and the smell of snow in the air. We took a day trip to Leavenworth last weekend. It snowed at least fifteen inches in five hours. We shopped and walked through the bustling streets of the small tourist town, aka Bavarian Vegas, which was the description offered by one group of people who slid past us on the icy path. The lights came on in the early evening, and we watched children sled down a small hill in the center of town. It sealed the deal that the holidays were really upon us. We might just make that trip a seasonal tradition.

What happens in Leavenworth, stays in Leavenworth.

And while I'm off the subject, let me also mention that I am especially grateful for the three week break from college. I apologize for my lack of presence lately, but essays and exams take over my life at times. Working full time and going to school full time leaves room for little else, so I'm trying to savor as much of the season as I can before the rush comes back to our day-to-day.

But back to the seeds. And spring. I do love spring, despite the fact that I must give up winter to get to it. Spring always starts with a stirring desire to plant seeds in little pots. I get to the point in winter where I genuinely need little green things around me. It's like a desire to nest. I get broody and need to feel dirt under my fingers.

See what I mean? Centerfold. I thought about taking this on my train ride to work, but I think I'd actually blush if I got busted staring at the winter squash.

I know this is coming, and I am armed with catalogs. This year I was especially on top of things, and the seeds are not only ordered, they have indeed arrived. They'll sit in the shortbread tin on the counter until the days begin to warm and the planting itch starts. If only I had known a new catalog was on its way.

Enter Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds.

In all honesty, I cannot say that I have ever seen a more beautiful seed catalog in my many years of gardening and farming. It was more like a magazine, a full spread of lingerie-like-lettuces and centerfold squashes ready to jump from the pages and plant themselves in the waiting raised beds of my imagination. Page after page of sweet and hot peppers made me salivate for the salsa I've never made but dreamt about. Clusters of bright red, striped green, flat, skinny, round, ripe tomatoes tempted me and made me forget, if only for a moment, that the more tropical plants barely survive in our cool, northern climate. Nine types of rutabaga, twice as many turnips, mysteries from Siberia and parts of Russia, stabilized and imported for you to welcome into your vegetable rows amazed me. I began to rethink that seed order, paid for and received, planned, simply waiting for an opportunity, sitting in a shortbread tin with stray packets of those little dessicants they put in shoe boxes. How could I not include these new (old) heirloom plants? Would I find satisfaction with my meager stock of plain cukes and ordinary beans? More importantly, how could I get away with making another seed order without my girlfriend catching me?

Maybe you don't need this kind of conflict in your life. If that's the case, forget I mentioned this HEART-STOPPINGLY-GORGEOUS seed catalog. Spare yourself the agony of choosing between the hundreds of varieties of names like Hero of Lockinge Melon, or Little Fingers Eggplant, or Crapaudine Beet.

But if you're at a friend's house, and you see this catalog lying around, tempting you with glimpses of full color photographs and delectible descriptions, resist the urge to pick it up before you're ruined like me. I don't think I can ever go back to the pale, two-dimensional life of other seed catalogs again.

Is La Niña Code for "Start Baking"?

2010-11-22T08:20:00.000-08:00

That's not dandruff, folks. It's been snowing!! And we all know that snow is one of Aengus' favorite snacks.

We covered the garden with straw just a few short days ago, knowing that cold weather was on the way.

Boy was that good timing! It doesn't snow very often in the Pacific Northwest. Sure, the mountains get covered with it this time of the year, and the ski resorts are always happy when the icy winds begin to blow, but we live extremely close to salt water, so snow is a rare treat for us.

Year-round gardening is usually simple in this region. We currently have one cold frame to see some plants through the winter, but you can see the leeks (in the bed on the left) holding up well even in this sub-freezing weather. The strawberries, just to the right of the leeks and garlic (which has yet to sprout), were still giving us ripe berries only last week. The blueberries (in the foreground) have turned a lovely shade of deep red. There are carrots, turnips, rutabaga, and kohlrabi growing in the uncovered bed, and a few small pots of strawberry runners are in the cold frame bed. Everything else has been put to sleep for the winter.

Straw is a really simple way to cover raised beds and garden space this time of year. It's very inexpensive (usually about $7 per bale), and we use lots of it in the chicken coop anyway, so it's always on hand. I only wish the bales weren't so messy. In the spring, we'll pull all that mulch off the beds and toss it into the paths for extra weed control. It sometimes sprouts a little hay grass when it rains, but it creates a very effective weed barrier.

Is it time to pull out the doggie sweaters, too? We've been baking brownies and making homemade chicken noodle soup all weekend to keep the house toasty warm. It's supposed to drop down into the very low 20's tonight, and it probably won't get above freezing until Wednesday. Here's to hot cocoa and fuzzy wool sweaters!!

Dark Meat, Anyone?

2010-11-15T14:50:00.000-08:00

You may not know much about Dark Meat (whose real name is Esther, named after the famed synchronized swimmer), but you may be hearing more about her over the coming weeks.

See the resemblance? I thought you might. I can't say that Dark Meat enjoys a good swim, but her feathery toes know no boundaries. She's bold, she's brave, and I even witnessed her giving a hearty peck to Portia just the other day. We worried that she would forever be the scared little chicken in the flock, but she seems to be coming into her own.

The real reason we're all about Dark Meat these days is because....

SHE LAID HER FIRST EGG!

That's right, folks. The silence of the egg is over. After a month of no hen fruits, Dark Meat has come through as a shining example of urban-egg-laying glory. Her first egg came early on Saturday morning, and the second arrived on Sunday. Who knows? There might be one waiting for us after work today. So far her eggs are a bit on the small side, but we don't judge around here. Their shells are a lovely pale brown with subtle lilac specks. If I hadn't been so keen on breakfast this weekend, I'd have snapped a pic or two.

It's funny how we've come to depend on our ladies for eggs in the course of just one short year. Store bought eggs simply won't do. The shells are too uniform, the yolks are too pale, the flavor is flat, and the characteristic bit of feather fluff or chicken poo is oddly absent. I've missed me some farm eggs.

Happy Anniversary to Us!

2010-11-09T09:34:00.000-08:00

Where has the time gone? Really, folks. I mean it. I wake up and it's dark, my train ride to work is dark, the ride home is dark... It's no wonder the hens refuse to lay eggs when the days get shorter. But the specific time I'm referring to today is the year of blogging we've just completed! The first blog post here was on November 7th, 2009, and we've come a long way since those early days. Ready for a trip down memory lane?

Six tiny chicks showed up at the local post office in the late part of summer 2009. It was August, we had just gotten home from a great road trip vacation to Yellowstone NP, Grand Teton NP, and Glacier NP. (This was the vacation where Aimee really got to get in some serious "wheel time" driving the Subaru. I napped in the passenger seat and woke up to find her cruising along at 83 mph in Montana. Yikes!) The coop was nearly finished, and the brooder box was warm and waiting. Portia, Ellen, Raquel, Ursula, Ingrid, and Norma Jean all thrived in those late summer weeks. By December we had our first eggs.

Sadly, we lost one of our chicks in early 2010. Norma Jean, tragically named after Marylin Monroe, died young of an overdose. If only we could have sensed the foreboding in her name. It was a terribly sobering event after such initial success, and it forced us to come to terms with how attached we had become to our little ladies in the backyard.

Bartering eggs around the neighborhood opened up new lines of communication, friendship, and sharing, and we credit the chickens and the garden in the front yard for much of this. One neighbor was so caught up with the beauty of our hens than he asked us to raise a few for him. He built a great little coop and run, and his three chickens are now happy and healthy, and I think they're probably a bit spoiled.

That same batch of chicks brought three new lives into our own flock, though we could never have guessed how much they would teach us or force us to grow over the course of a summer. Winona, the luckiest (or unluckiest) little Wyandotte I have ever known, started out a little slower than her brooder box mates. I dropped a board on her and nearly killed her, but she simply refused to give up. After a few days in isolation under a heat lamp, she rejoined her sisters and has grown up to be pretty close to normal. As it turns out, her inability to prevent getting whacked by me is probably related to her scissor beak condition. To this day, her beak must be clipped regularly, her eyesight leaves a lot to be desired, and she's extremely shy about portait shots with the camera. Though she consistently peck an inch to the left of snacks on the ground, she's a fighter. In other words, she's really darned plump.

Dark Meat is the embodiment of pure joy. I have yet to capture a video of her antics, but believe me that it will be worth the wait when that movie shows up. Perhaps a dedicated post to our funniest chick is in order soon. Neither of the two youngers chickens have started to lay eggs, and this Friday they will be 33 weeks old. They seem to have the support of the toughest chicken union I have ever negotiated with.

Rusty, formerly known as Milla, was the most robust, beautiful, and biggest chick we had ever seen. We remained firmly in denial about his gender until the infamous "borkle" sound I heard one afternoon. We struggled with our decision to slaughter him, and we learned so much about respect and personal limits, none of which were anticipated. Though we have received some criticism about butchering our own animal, it was an important step for the future farm we will someday own. On a personal level, slaughtering an animal I genuinely loved has changed my internal compass for eating, and it has opened my eyes to behaviors and practices I feel I can no longer ignore.

We cut down the massive, very old, and incredibly frail douglas fir in our front yard during the peak of the summer heat. That seemingly simple act has opened up a world of possibility for our small raised bed garden, and we are now looking forward to more work, more harvesting, and more sunlight in our future.

What's to come in the future? If we have learned anything in the last year of urban farming it is that planning is fun, but the farm will make its own decisions with or without our input. Below is a list of hopes, and some of them feel a bit like New Year's resolutions, which is to say that fulfilling or ignoring them are both viable options.

Honey bees are the next big goal. We'll be starting out with a single hive in the front yard in the spring, and we hope to learn much about the lives and organization of bees, pollination, listening to the weather, and collecting honey.
Meat birds are the next logical step after Rusty. Though this particular item is under some heavy scrutiny at the moment, it will eventually happen in the coming years, even if next year is not good timing.
The garden shed will be getting a concrete floor, and we hope to have this completed before the end of 2010. Both it and the garage could use a lot of love and work, but we'll handle that one project at a time. In the meantime, we need a safe place for storage, and we're looking forward to growing more of our garden starts under cover.
The reclaimed "acreage" in the front yard needs to be converted into beds and a mini orchard. Building raised beds can be a lot of work, but we've had such great success with those that we already have, and Aimee really wants a place to grow raspberries. I'm hoping to rig one or more of them to accomodate a mini hoop house for tomatoes, cukes, and possibly some other fun veggies.
The line of stumps in the backyard is gone, thanks to the fine efforts of the chickens. A second mini orchard may find its home there.
Our parking strip is the last vestige of grass (by which I mostly mean weeds and clover) in front of the house. One bed of herbs is already planted, and at least four more are planned. In my mind (as idyllic and ridiculous as it is known to be), I imagine our neighbors casually wandering over to clip oregano and parsley for their dinners in the summer evenings. In reality, I am prepared for more than a little cat poop.
Many of the bedding plants around the house are going to be removed and re-homed to make way for rhubarb, berries, and who-knows-what-else. We both agree that the calla lilies are waning, the single mum doesn't get enough light, and the dhalia always gets infested with aphids. It's time for edible permaculture.

Are we too ambitious? Probably, but it's always funny to watch us try. Stay tuned over the next year to see what really gets done. What are your plans for gardens, farms, animals, and such?

Get Out And Vote!

2010-11-02T08:25:00.000-07:00

The campaigning has hit its peak. Signs are in yards everywhere, the TV and radio are buzzing with promotional ads and digs at opponents, and some of us have even been visited (repeatedly) by Labor Neighbors. If you have a union job, you've probably heard of this door-to-door process. If you haven't, be thankful. In the spirit of exercising your rights, we encourage you to vote today. A brief review of the key issues is below, and our recommendations are noted.

Referendum Cluck - We, the chickens, hereby propose an increase in food, wherein food is defined as any wholesome substance to be deposited in our communal feeder or distrubuted about the floor of the run. Desired natural foodstuffs include such things as fresh berries, cheerios soaked in whole milk, a hot oatmeal breakfast on cold days, and leftover carrot and turnip mash.

Vote for - That raw food stuff is for sissies. We're tired of brussels sprout stalks and crunchy pumpkin innards. Cook it, already. (Sponsored by Real Chickens for Real Food)

Vote against - You're lucky you get anything but chicken feed. (Sponsored by Humans Don't Have Enough Time to Cook For Themselves, and They're Not About To Cook For Birds)

Initiative Egg - We, the humans, hereby demand a shift in the molting schedule of the hens. Summertime is hot, which means it is a much better time to shed feathers and regrow. Additionally, our egg demands are greatly reduced from July to August. We propose that this new molting period become effective immediately to help restore critically low funding in egg capital for holiday baking.

Vote for - Really? You stop laying right when we need eggs the most? This union bullying tactic has gone on long enough. You're shivering and we're having to purchase eggs at the store. (Sponsored by The One Person in the Family Who Would Like an Omlette for Breakfast)

Vote against - It's about damn time you realized you need what we work so hard to produce. We hope you enjoy that lifeless, pale yolk you had in your scrambled mess this morning. (Sponsored by Unified Chickens for an Egg Unrestricted Market)

Well, folks, that wraps up our suggestions and comments on this important voting day. Every voice (and cluck) is important, so let your choices be heard. The poll is now open (on the upper right side of this page). Polls close in one week, so vote early and often!

I Did It!

2010-10-30T15:14:00.000-07:00

I am officially an Apprentice Beekeeper! I took my test this morning and carried it into Beez Neez, got it scored, and got congratulated by Jim, store owner and regular member and officer of the NWDBA (Northwest District Beekeepers Association). Let the hive plans begin!

No Feathers, No Eggs

2010-10-20T05:57:00.000-07:00

It's been a sad time around the urban farm lately. Egg production has never been this low, even when the girls first started laying. We feel lucky to get one egg per day, and that egg is most certainly coming from Portien. Who is Portien, you ask? She would be either Portia or Ellen, one of the Hamburgs. We honestly cannot tell them apart anymore. They are most frequently observed as a high speed flash of polka-dotted-black-on-white streaking through the yard or darting into the coop. Let me back up a bit in the storyline.

When we first decided to raise chickens, I began researching which breeds of chicken to purchase. I knew I wanted heritage breeds. I knew I wanted friendly chickens that would be easy to handle. I also knew I wanted three different breeds, two chicks of each. I hoped this would leave us with at least one of each type after any fatalities or problems in young chickenhood. I was nothing if not realistic. I was also, as it turned out, a bit misguided in my breed selections. How do you choose when there are so many varieties of hens? How do you narrow down the many types you'd like to raise into just three options? I struggled with my wants and needs, I studied pictures of hens and chicks for weeks, and I finally decided on the three we would eventually order.

Dominiques

Golden Campines

Silver Speckled Hamburgs

The list of runner ups included Delawares, Brahmas, Sussex, and Welsummers, two of which ended up in our second batch of chicks early this year. Basing your decision on a website description of breeds is tough. As many of you probably know, breed characteristics come second to the many unique qualities of an individual. It's great to say that Dominiques are friendly birds, but you don't know how your birds will behave until you have them in your coop. I also feel that how you raise and handle your birds plays a large role in their later interactions with you and others. That said, our decision to bring in two Hamburgs was not the best, nor was it based on accurate information.

I told you they were molting.

The cons of Hamburgs:

Hamburgs are one of the most notoriously flighty birds you will encounter. They do not like to be handled. They will avoid being caught at all costs. And, for those of you who've been reading this blog for any length of time may recall, they can fly very well. Catching Portia or Ellen is a skill that has taken a lot of time to develop. I am grateful for one thing: they are bird brains.

Hamburgs don't like to be confined. This is great if you have plenty of room to let them wander, but city chickens usually equal confinement to a coop for much of the day. Once they're out, you're best to just let them find their way home at sunset.

Ellen (or Portia) stares longingly at the loaf of bread. Good luck, skinny bird.

That flightiness I mentioned before necessitates wing clipping every year. This is a valuable skill, and I'm glad to have learned it, but it prevents you from being able to show your birds at events, which is one of the main reasons people choose to keep Hamburgs. They are truly beautiful animals.

Our Hamburgs suck at foraging. I swear. You can tell by the color of their egg yolks. Portia and Ellen's eggs are the lightest in color of all the eggs we collect from our hens. The Dominiques lay the darkest yolks.

The pros of Hamburgs (or, What This Post is Really About):

This bird is sometimes called the Dutch Everyday Layer, and they got that name for good reason. They will honestly lay six eggs a week, unfailingly. In fact, as I mentioned above, they are currently our only source of eggs. We can't tell the difference between Portia's and Ellen's eggs (and, yes, we can tell all the other girls' eggs apart), but there is almost always a lovely, shiny, slightly creamy colored egg in the nest box. Sometimes that egg lands in the compost bin or behind a thorny thistle we forgot to pull up, but these girls are the most reliable layers you will ever meet.

If you do choose to let your Hamburgs out (which we do, due to the afore-mentioned wing clipping), they stand a better chance of escaping potential attacks from predators than the rest of the flock. As I said before, they're impossible to catch. This can be helpful if you have neighborhood racoons, opossums, cats, dogs, etc.

Why aren't the rest of our ladies laying? Molting. And when I say molting, I cannot emphasize enough how bad these chickens look. After plucking dear little Rusty earlier this year, I am reminded of that event every time I see Raquel. She looks like she's nearly ready for the stew pot. Molting is tough on a hen. The protein required to grow all those feathers back makes her moody and hungry all the time, and her body can't keep producing eggs when it's stressed like that. I've heard loads of methods to speed the process up, but I think this is one ailment that only time can heal. Meanwhile, we haven't given out surplus eggs all month (because we haven't had any). The neighbors have been worried. My breakfasts have been boring. Baking makes us worry that we might have to (*gasp*) buy eggs on the open market. Those chickens aren't the only ones stressing in this family.

Dear God, that is one awful-looking chicken. Poor Raquel! She's already half plucked!

On the bright side, Ursula has grown her tail back, her feathers are looking lustrous and full-volume again, and I think she may be contemplating laying once more. Also, *someone* has been doing a lot of nesting in the upper coop. The wood chips are routinely scattered into drifts, and little hollows have been made in corners. Could Winnie or Dark Meat be thinking about laying?

Return of the Punchcumber

2010-10-14T05:52:00.000-07:00

You might not remember. It was a long time ago now.

And I think we all conveniently forgot, too, because they got so orange and looked so much like pumpkins.

But can you see that green tint? It's not the camera (though our camera is due for an upgrade).

When I cut into them, the kitchen began to smell like fresh cucumber. I roasted them anyway. One hour in the oven with a tray of water beneath. They're waiting for me in the fridge. I need to scoop out their insides and take a taste. But seriously, what do you make out of a punchcumber?

At least the girls were happy to get the sloppy, seedy insides for a snack. They might get more than that!

Hangin' in the Coop

2010-10-11T09:09:00.000-07:00

Your favorite personalities are back! In their video premiere, Ingrid, Dark Meat, and Winnie are the stars.

Since the summer has flown by, I'm sure you're all amazed to see how big and fluffy the babies have gotten. No eggs yet, but we've gotten a lot of laughs watching them flap, flop, and get pecked by the big girls. Is it really fall already?

Okay, okay, I'm obsessed with my new iPhone. But seriously, shooting video from your phone while you're tossing veggie scraps to chickens is AWESOME. You should try it.

New Neighbors?

2010-10-07T09:53:00.000-07:00

Okay, he's hard to see, but he's there. He's staring at me. And his brother is hiding behind him. Two adolescent racoons have taken up residence in our neighbor's wood pile. I'm torn between thinking they're cute and fearing for our chickens' welfare.

As the neighbor and I discussed this dilemma, we began to wonder what right we had in considering "removal" of these two critters. After all, racoons and other animals are simply a part of urban life. In fact, you're far more likely to see a racoon in the city or suburbs than out on a hiking trail. My block is their block. My yard is their yard. My garden and my neighbors' trash are their sources of food, and our structures have become their homes.

How do you protect your flock and still find the capacity to respect nature's need for wildness?

Busy Bee Plans

2010-10-06T10:32:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday I took a class on beginning beekeeping. I had a great time. Washington State University runs all of the agricultural programs in the state, and, together with the Washington State Beekeepers Association, provides opportunities for people to take classes in varying levels of beekeeping skill. Becoming an Apprentice Beekeeper requires one eight hour class or a series of five two hour classes in which you learn the basics of bee entomology, hive culture, honey and comb collection, pest and disease management, and the bee geek language. At the end you take a test. A score of 80% in each section is required to pass. Here in western Washington, there are a number of different club chapters that put these classes on throughout the year. Mine was sponsored by the Northwest District Beekeepers Association, which mainly serves Snohomish County. Our teacher was Jim, owner of the Beez Neez Apiary and Supply in downtown Snohomish.

Have any of you taken one of these classes? Do you raise honey bees? My class was pretty intense. There's a lot to cover in just eight hours, and it's tough to get all your questions answered in that span of time. Below are some of the things I learned that seemed most interesting or most important for our first venture into the world of honey.

Jim from Beez Neez placing a frame of bees, comb, and brood into his new display hive. This hive will sit in his store throughout the year so that people can come in and watch the bees through the glass. They're connected to the outside world by a clear plastic pipe on the left side of the hive box, which feeds into a second tube in the side of the building. When Jim finished, he rolled the hive back into the store.

Bees regulate the temperature in their hive. How do they do this? A group of individual bees will sit at the bottom entrance of the hive and flap their little wings like mad. This pushes cool air up into the hive and gets the hot air moving out. In the winter they can keep the core of the hive at about 87 degrees. It may be chilly outside, but the bees inside huddle into a clump to keep warm. For this reason, it's really important not to open your hive unless it's over 50 degrees out. And you shouldn't try to inspect brood comb (where the little babies are growing) unless it's at least 60 degrees.
Bees don't function as individuals. I can think of lots of Star Trek themes that fit this very well. Rather than consider their own needs, the bees will function as a unit, doing whatever will benefit the hive most. Therefore it makes sense that much of a bee's life is sacrificial. A sting to protect the colony ends their life. Mating ends a drone's life. It seems cruel to us, but it's natural for bees to operate this way.
A varied diet is a balanced diet. Bees need to collect many colors of pollen to get the protein and vitamins they need to thrive. When commercial beekeepers use their colonies to pollinate crops like sunflowers, the bees end up with severe nutrient defficiencies. Most bees will find what they need on their own, and you can check what kind of pollen they're getting into with a pollen collector. Some people will even pay big bucks for bee pollen!
When laying eggs, the queen bee can decide the gender of her offspring. If she lays a fertile egg, it will become a female. All unfertilized eggs become drone males. How about that.
Propolis, or bee glue, is one of the key ingredients in the varnish on a Stradivarius violin. It will also stain your clothes if you're not careful.

You can't imagine just how much info got crammed into my little brain. I still need to take my test and mail it in for my Apprentice certificate, but there's time. Hive and bee orders don't need to happen until early in the year, so now is the time to plan. What kind of hive should we try? Traditional Langstroth or something more like a top bar hive? One hive or two? And, most importantly, where do we put our hive(s)? We still haven't firmly decided to start keeping bees in the spring, but taking this class really helped me understand the work, patience, and determination we'll need to be successful.

And I love honey.

Maybe that's motivation enough.

Are you curious about bees? Check out this link from WSU, or contact your local agricultural extension office for more help. Find an issue of Bee Culture Magazine at your local library. Even the New York Times likes to write about bees! Keeping bees in the city represents some unique challenges, so please comment or email us with your questions, suggestions, ideas, and experiences.

I Heart Pumpkin

2010-10-04T08:43:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year. October has arrived, there's a crisp edge to the air in the afternoons, mornings are foggy, and pumpkins abound!

They start out small, flanked by tendrils and bright yellow blossoms. Their skins are green and striped, delicate and impressionable. Some start out yellow. Some are fat, some are squat, some are lumpy, but they're all bound to be the highlight of autumn to come.

The growing season for pumpkins is pretty much over, even though we have a very mild climate in the Pacific Northwest. Leaves will be covered with powdery mildew, vines will shrivel and dry, and exposure to sunlight will turn pumpkin rinds orange. We've cut ours back and harvested all but the last two. Several have already found homes on neighbors' porches and front steps, but the rest will stay on as decorations, snacks, and chicken treats.

Photo courtesy of Charlesbridge.

So, now that you know what our pumpkin patch provides, let me continue to profess my love for punchkins. I love their bright orange glow on drizzly mornings. I love watching them darken after being cut and propped up on the porch railing. I love carving them and scooping out their guts. It's slippery and messy and disgusting and the most fun you can have late at night in your kitchen the week before Halloween. I love roasting (and eating) the seeds. Did I mention I love the seeds? They're plump and smooth, and the thick border that runs around their little almond-shaped border reminds me of old book bindings. I love pumpkin pies (and I hold the record in my family for most pumpkin pie consumed in a 24 hour period, a memorable trophy from the Year of Pies at Papadon's house one Thanksgiving). I love pumpkin flavored foods. Too much. Pumpkin scones are perhaps my favorite naughty treat. I even love pumpkin shaped candy corn. But the plants are where the affair begins. The sight of the first pumpkin sprouts in late spring and early summer gives me a thrill. Will they run wild and grow a string of little pumpkins on the path? Or will they devote themselves to one or two monstrous specimens? I love the disarray and abandon with which they conquer the yard. Pumpkins know no boundaries, nor do they respect a hefty pruning. Yep. I love punchkins.

It's been mistaken more than once that my favorite holiday is Halloween, which it is not. I remain faithful to Thanksgiving, a holiday devoted to food. I do like Halloween, however, and I always feel a nagging regret when work or other responsibilities get in the way of pumpkin carving, cookie making, candy eating, and the annual neighborhood candy bowl party (complete with bonfires, pop-up tents to keep out the rain, tons of food, loads of candy, and more than a few cans and bottles of brew). There are plenty of people who get into Halloween way more than I do, despite my affinity for bats, strings of candy corn lights, and those little paper ghosties people hang in their trees. I'm sorry if it disappoints, but my heart will always be in the pumpkin patch first.

Hungry for more pumpkin fun? Check out Small Measure, Pumpkin Muffins and How to Roast a Whole Pumpkin over at Veggie Venture, and more muffins at Farmgirl Fare.

What's For Dinner??

2010-09-27T08:35:00.000-07:00

Chickens are omnivores. They'll really eat anything. Sometimes they even look at me with those beady little eyes, and I wonder if I'm on the menu. But seriously, this time of the year many chickens are molting, and the loss of all those feathers makes them ravenous. Our three pound feeder gets emptied twice a week by our seven girls, so we have to keep an eye on it to make sure they don't start chewing through the coop wire to get at the fridge in our kitchen.

We recently procured a couple of large metal bins for storing chicken feed. Why? Rodents, of course. Our garden shed was once the Hilton for a couple of very plump mice. They got into the food, the cracked corn (for treats), potting soil, garden seeds, fertililzer... You name it, they wrecked it. Solution? Metal bins, and a new concrete floor in the shed. The floor won't be done for another couple weeks, but the metal bins are a great way to put an end to the mousy frivoloties. Each of these bins has a thirty gallon capacity, which means they can each comfortable hold two fifty-pound bags of feed. The one in the foreground here has that amount in it, and you can see how much room is left. Bear in mind, this means that each bin will weight over one hundred pounds when full.

The lids fit snugly, and we have yet to experience any problems since using the bins. Price your local co-op and hardware store for the best deal. We got these for about $28 each at the big chain hardware store a mile from the house. They beat the local co-op by two bucks.

Buckets with tight-fitting lids also work well, but rats have been known to chew through plastic when desperate. Ours have held up well, but we're also careful to keep them in areas with lots of activity and foot traffic. Shifty little rodents prefer dark corners and quiet places to perform their acts of pilfering. The one pictured above is home to our supply of weed seeds.

Weed seeds? Really? Here in our little urban farm, we like to call ourselves frugal (aka cheap). Why pay for something when you can trade, barter, or get it for free? One of our neighbors works at the Snohomish County grain facility. Farmers bring in their grain, it gets ground, and the waste (weed seeds, hulls, bits of wheat, etc) falls to the floor. That neighbor expressed an interest in getting a herd of chickens to roam around and eat all that good stuff that was getting thrown away. Better solution - We'll take it! We mix this in a 1:2 ratio with their regular feed. The girls love it, it gives them extra protein and variety in their diet, it cuts down (a little) on feed cost, and it keeps perfectly good grain out of our county waste facilities.

We also add oyster shells to our ladies' meal plan. I've tried several ways of providing them with these shells, but the least messy method I've used is to incorporate it straight into the feeder. This gets mixed at a 1:4 ratio with the standard feed. So filling the feeder is easy. Four scoops of feed, two scoops of weed seeds, one scoop of oyster shells. Repeat.

A bag this size will last a long time. We've had this one for a year already, and it's still 3/4 full. And heavy!! Ground up oyster shells are also great in your garden. They repel slugs and other soft-bodied pests, and they provide a great source of calcium and magnesium for plants. We don't bother since there are loads of egg shells to fill that need in our raised beds.

Last, but possibly most important, access to fresh, green grass is really important to the dietary health of a chicken. Apart from fresh air, space to run and flap, crunchy insect snacks, and mite-busting dust baths, getting outside lets your chickens feel like chickens, not nuggets in a cage. If you can't let your hens out, or if the weather is just too nasty, make sure to give them plenty of treats to snack on. Cabbage leaves, melon rinds, and loads of other scraps from your garden and kitchen give them variety to nibble on, and they cut down on aggression during times of confinement. Chickens (like cows, sheep, and many other farm animals) also have the ability to digest grass and turn it into an edible product for humans to consume. This is our best way to get Omega 3 fatty acids. Check out this article from Eat Wild for more information on the benefits of consuming meat and eggs from grass-fed animals. The more they roam in the yard, the darker our hens' egg yolks get, and that's the whole reason we wanted to raise chickens in the first place.

Is It the Weekend Yet?

2010-09-23T10:43:00.000-07:00

You know you need a new job when.........

Clicking on the photo will enlarge it. Ignore the agenda items. Can you find the little mouse I hid in there? Honestly, I need to go home and plant something.

The Annual Visit to the Fair

2010-09-09T09:47:00.000-07:00

Each year we celebrate our anniversary with a trip to the Evergreen State Fair. I know, terribly romantic! Still, nothing makes me smile like baby piglets, stroking the mane of a Clydesdale, or watching the pygmy goat kids play.

But what about the chickens?

It's lots of fun to walk through the poultry and waterfowl barn. The roosters crow, some of the hens guard eggs in their cages, and the geese nip at children's fingers.

A lot of the chickens at the fair are banties. This little roo was quite the gentleman. I don't see the appeal of miniature chickens, but many urban farmers think they're great. Me? I love fat, fluffy, sassy hens.

This one looked so much like Winnie! Now that our girls are officially hens (except for the pullet crew of two), showing them at the fair or with poultry groups is more appealing. It can be a lot of work to get your chickie ready for dispalying and judging, but perhaps we'll try it!

Blueberry Picking

2010-09-09T09:26:00.000-07:00

Alas, I am a bad blogger. I've not kept up with my posts lately, and it appears that the summer is quickly fading into memories. Let's take a walk back through a hot, sunny morning. On a cloudy, drippy day like today, it's good to think of summer's warmth.

We've never been berry picking until this year. With our decision to eat more local foods, stocking up, preserving, and freezing have been some of our prime summertime activities. We started off easy. Blueberry picking is simple and fun, and there are no thorns.

Blueberries start coming into season in July, and they keep producing right up through the end of September most years. The plants in our yard are still giving us a few berries each week, but our harvesting at Bryant Bluberry Farms in Arlington was in the last few weeks of their prime blueberry season.

You can see how many unripened berries were still hanging on the bushes, but the ripe ones fell into our buckets with a satisfying thunk.

Twenty pounds later, we headed for home with dreams of blueberry muffins, pancakes, scones, and more.

The best part of harvesting blueberries is snacking as you go. Once you get them home, rinse them off, pat them dry, and bag them for the freezer. Blueberries, unlike other types of berries, don't stick together when frozen, so it's easy to grab as many as you want without having to thaw a whole batch.

Chicken Vacation!

2010-09-04T10:23:00.000-07:00

You may have noticed that the girls haven't posted anything exciting for a while, but that's only because we've all been on vacation for a week! What's been going on around our urban farm?

The garden has been growing like crazy. We've gotten several days of rain over the last few weeks, and it's worked more than a few wonders. Hmm.... How did this pumpkin get here?

A funny thing happened in the compost pile... We always throw in lots of veggie scraps and leftover bits from growing things, and sometimes things sprout up from the compost after it gets spread around the yard. At least two pumpkin vines were determined to grow this year, despite the fact that I did not plant any.

We hit the motherlode! This lovely specimen was growing OUTSIDE the fence along the sidewalk. Bad idea. I harvested him a bit early, but we were afraid he would get victimized or vandalized by someone walking by. We joked about these pumpkins (affectionately called punchkins in our family) as they began to grow and mature. As many of you may know, cucurbits are extremely promiscuous plants, and they'll cross-breed with anything nearby. Last year we grew three varieties of punchkins and one type of cucumber, so our early plants were named punchcumbers. Thankfully, it appears that the pumpkins are indeed pumpkins, and they are most likely a cross between Jack-Be-Little and Rouge vif d'Etampes, better known as Cinderella pumpkins.

We've eaten a LOT of cole slaw lately...

And I cannot wait to taste my first home-grown brussels sprouts!

Our tomatoes are the talk of the 'hood. No one else has red ones yet, and we've already collected over three pounds of ripe cherry, grape, Vintage Wine, and Brandywine tomatoes. What's our secret? Pruning, trellising with twine, snapping suckers, and generous heaps of crushed egg shells for each plant. Okay, okay, and we bought FABULOUS starts at the farmers market in the spring.

We've had lots of visitors and friends in the garden, and many of them are keen to hold still for a photo op. Can you believe I grew this Echinacea from seed last year?

There's been lots of vacation time just spent lounging and sun-bathing.

A little work got done, too. Look at that brave contractor replacing windows upstairs! Almost all the windows in the house are now energy efficient. Best of all, they open and close and they don't leak!

The girls have had lots of fun, too. They've been out in the yard nearly every day, they've gotten lots of veggie scraps, and the coop got a good cleaning. You can see here that the straw on the floor is all gone. When we clean the coop out, we give the hens a few days to scratch around in the dirt and clean up the extra feed and seeds that fall through their bedding. When fresh straw goes down, they go crazy! It's fun to scratch, fluff, and play with new bedding, so this is a pretty exciting time to be a chicken. By the way, make sure to wish our older girls a happy birthday! They're officially one year old now!

The babies are still babies, however. Winnie and Dark Meat never get to roost on the pole with the older girls, so they sit on top of the nest boxes every night. And no, they have not started laying yet. Portia (pictured in the background) has been looking for creative places to hide her eggs. We found one in the compost bin earlier in the week. Bad chicken!

No vacation would be complete without a few tasty treats. The hens get their own designer pancake this morning. There was a little leftover batter and some raspberry seeds from the compote I made, so a fancy chicken brekky was born. Happy vacation!

The Bellingham Farmers Market

2010-08-24T08:50:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the Bellingham Farmers Market! I've been looking forward to visiting this bustling market for a while, and we finally went a couple of weekends ago. It was insanely hot out, but there were plenty of shady stalls and frosty beverages to keep us going on a sunny Saturday.

Bellingham actually has two markets during the week. One is on Wednesday afternoons in Fairhaven, and the other is the main market on Saturdays in the Depot Market Square.

It's finally tomato season! We're still waiting to stock up on tomatoes for sauce, but the big slicers are ready for sandwiches. My coworkers are always jealous of the fresh things I bring for lunch, and ripe tomatoes make it easy to pass up fast food and unhealthy items near the office.

Ah, the bounty of summer.

One of these grilled up nicely for dinner the other night. Slice up a fresh onion and some sweet pepper, skewer them, then place them on a hot grill next to bratwurst or sausages. Yum!

Did someone say onion?

I always wait until September, but the corn is in! Hopewell Farm is one of the many small farms that produces fruits and veggies for farmers markets and co-ops in Whatcom County.

Birchwood Botanicals sells lots of starts for your garden. It may be summertime, but it's not too late to plan for fall. If you live in the Pacific Northwest, growing plants year round is pretty easy.

I have yet to taste the beets we pickled from our own garden, but I do so love the sight of brightly colored vegetables.

Daikon radishes are a Japanese favorite.

I am a mushroom lover. How could I pass up such lovely oyster mushrooms?

From baskets of fresh mushrooms to plug spawn and sawdust, Cascadia Mushrooms has what you need. Not sure what to do with the basket I picked out, Alex, the fungi himself, gave me several recipe ideas. Maybe I'll go back and get a kit to grow my own!

I am a sucker for tea.

But soap never tastes quite as good...

Pasta for dinner? Try fresh! Check out all the varieties the Bellingham Pasta Company has to offer! Just boil for three minutes and add a sauce made with fresh tomatoes.

I bought a pound of spinach fettuccinne, and I think I fell in love.

Bellingham may be pretty far north, but it's worth the trip to visit this fantastic farmers market. Bring the family along and make a day of it!

A Brekky To Remember

2010-08-20T18:21:00.001-07:00

Have you ever had a breakfast that stuck with you until dinner? If not, the kind folks at Farm Kitchen can help you out. We took some friends there a few weekends ago.

What's for breakfast?

Seriously? Thick. Cut. Bacon. I had been dreaming about that all week long. It was well worth the wait. The five of us did not hesitate to order nearly everything on the menu. This place serves food in an a la cart style. Menus get passed around while you stand in (the long) line to get in, you tell the nice lady what you want, she rings you up, you sit and wait for the feast to begin.

We're so hungry we're all looking at pictures of thick cut bacon on iPhones.

And then you get inside and they tempt you with more baked goodies! Honestly, resistance was futile.

After breakfast, the misty farm grounds beckoned. We went for a stroll through the garden.

Farm Kitchen mostly does catering and events, but once a month they open their doors for a Saturday breakfast. Ordering is simple; there's really only one thing on the menu. Come hungry. The portions are generous, and the food is divine.

After you're done, smell the lavender, take pictures of the baby lettuce and spinach plants, and wander down to find the horses.

The acreage Farm Kitchen sits on is leased to a local farmer, and everything they serve is locally sourced or made by hand in their own kitchen.

The next Saturday Breakfast will be on September 4th. The menu is as follows...

Fresh Basil & Tomato Egg Scramble, Roasted Potatoes & Bakers Choice Pastry

Pastries of the Day

Yummy Orange Rolls

Marionberry Kuchen

Hollis's Original 8-Grain Pullaparts

Chocolate Chip Cookies

Oatmeal Cranberry Walnut Cookies

Banana Walnut Bread

It's difficult to drive back to the city after seeing something so beautiful as Farm Kitchen. If you're out on the Kitsap or Olympic Peninsulas anytime soon, look them up.

Walkies at Work

2010-08-20T18:19:00.000-07:00

What exactly does a city farmer do when she can't farm? I'm sure you've all wondered this from time to time, but it's clear that our little urban acreage can't be sustained without the day job. When I'm away from the chickens and the veggies, I spend my time in a fancy office building in downtown Seattle. I won't bore you with the details (plus we currently have a policy against blogging about work), but the highlights of my day are fair game!

Do you get to ride a train or bus to your destinations? Five days a week I roll down the hill to the Everett Station to catch the Sounder train into town. The route follows the coastline of Puget Sound, one of the largest etuaries in North America. Mornings are a great time to spot wildlife. Common sights are great blue herons, bald eagles, and frolicking harbor seals. From my cozy seat by the window, I can watch the clouds drift over the Olympic mountain range, ferries trekking between islands and peninsulas, and the occasional nude body on the beach... The ride home isn't nearly as entertaining, but it's a great time to study, read, or nap. And, as far as carbon footprints go, trains give you the most bang for your diesel buck.

(If you squint, you can see a bald eagle flying in the left side of this photo.)

(Yes indeed. Shipwrecks. There are at least five wrecked ships all in this one little area. Private property. No trespassing.)

Once I'm at work, I look for any excuse to get up and away from my desk. Morning and afternoon walkies are just the thing!

I head down to the waterfront first. This is one of the great perks of working in Seattle. Ferries from Coleman Dock depart to Vashon Island, Bainbridge Island, Bremerton, and Victoria, BC. This place is busy all day long.

The viaduct, a massive structure of concrete built on (you guessed it) sand, is on its last legs. It'll soon be torn down to make way for a chunnel *under* the waterfront. Highway 99 carries heavy loads of commuting traffic, so this city will be thrown into chaos once the final stage of demolition and construction begins. Until then, this famous icon of Seattle provides one of the best views of the downtown waterfront that you can get at 50 mph.

Behind and underneath the viaduct is the edge of Pioneer Square, one of Seattle's oldest neighborhoods. Brick and ivy are tangled as far as the eye can see. This is a great place to find a pint of beer, shop for retro toys, get a tattoo, see the Underground Tour, or buy a Utilikilt. I love old architecture.

Occidental Park is paved in a latticework of old and new brick, and it sports totem poles and other art throughout the year. In the summer, there are lunchtime concerts here and elsewhere in the city. Art shops abound, as do coffee shops. Could it be Seattle without?

Working under flourescent lights is a tough job, but escaping for a few minutes helps me relax and focus on the things that really matter: fresh air, a little exercise, and city views that make me smile to call this place a part of my home.

Do you go for walkies when you're at work?

Dust Bathing to Beat the Heat

2010-08-16T08:46:00.000-07:00

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. We really do have some hot chicks. Temps have been in the eighties for quite a few days in a row, the AC is on in the bedroom, the dogs are panting, and the chickens are open-beak breathing. Summer has finally arrived. It's time for a cool bath!

Chickens love to dust themselves. If you raise hens, you know exactly what I mean. Our neighbor across the street worried that his three girls didn't have a dusty spot to use, but I warned him that they would make their own if he let them out.

Just look what ours have done! Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a row of cedar trees in this spot. We cut them down about two years ago, and, while we were taking care of the douglas fir in the front yard, we had the stump grinder guy remove the cedar stumps in the backyard, too.

The girls are delighted. The dry, crumbly earth is easy to scratch, fun to peck at, and it makes the BEST dirt bath EVER. The other chickens took off when I came outside with the camera, but Raquel has no shame. She continued to kick up the dirt and made quite a show of herself.

Shake your groove thing, Raquel!

Chickens don't have sweat glands like mammals do. Even dogs and cats can sweat through their paws. When the temperatures climb, chickens breathe through their beaks (a sign of heat stress), frolic in the shade, and take dust baths to cool off.

Doesn't she look refreshed? Dust baths also help keep the bugs away. They're fun to eat, but not so much fun to wear. Dust is a natural flea and mite repellant.

One final fluff to get the dirt out...

The hollows left behind demonstrate just how much fun our girls have in the dirt. And, like our neighbor quickly learned, if you don't give them a dusting spot, they'll make their own.

Welcome to Edison, Washington

2010-08-13T08:37:00.000-07:00

After spending some quality time at the Mount Vernon Farmers Market, Aimee and I drove out to Edison, a little town in Skagit County. We wanted to see the home of Breadfarm, our favorite supplier of freshly baked sandwish rolls, baguettes, burger buns, and cinnamon swirl bread. Breadfarm sells their stuff at farmers markets from Everett to Bellingham, but this little shop is where all the action happens.

We had no idea what else Edison had to offer, especially since it has a population of 133, but the tiny downtown core was northwesty adorable!

This was one of two bars in town, both of which were pretty popular for a Saturday morning.

A couple of storefront shops offered local produce and wares. Tweets was one of them, and it sounds like a pretty popular espresso joint.

Is it plum season already?

We didn't get a good shot of it, but Slough Food is also located in Edison. They have a rockin' selection of wines and cheeses, featuring Gothberg Farms goat cheese. Yummy stuff.

Per the directions of one of ladies at Breafarm, we wandered down the road to the Farm to Market Bakery. Does that name sound familiar? Hey, I remember Farm to Market Road!!

Was it worth heading out to Edison? Darn tootin'! Just look at that hefty cinnamon roll from the folks at the Farm to Market Bakery. The icing was to die for, and I'm pretty sure I got stabbed by that fork when I fought Aimee for the last bite.

Skagit County has a lot to offer, so if you're in the area, spend some time with the locals.

Mount Vernon Farmers Market

2010-08-09T10:25:00.000-07:00

Exploring the farmers markets in our area is turning out to be more fun than we expected. Last weekend we drove north to visit the Mount Vernon Farmers Market in Skagit County.

Attendance was very good for such a cool, misty Saturday, and no one seemed to mind the clouds.

The Mount Vernon market has a variety of hot foods to choose from. We saw crepes, pancakes, and hot dogs, and I'm pretty sure there was coffee and tea in a few places. Can you go anywhere in this state without seeing coffee?

New potatoes are in, folks! Check out those golden lovelies. The bin below even had a recipe for tater salad.

My mission was to find cauliflower. I haven't had any all season, and I knew this would be my day. White cauliflower is nice, but where was the romanesco and purple stuff?

Nantes carrots, short, fat, and meaty, were everywhere. The onions are getting bigger, too. Aimee recently found a recipe for pickled red onions. Once those bulbs are bigger, we'll be buying a lot of them for storing.

How about that? No spray sweet onions and gorgeous beets. Why did we ever start using pesticides?

I never buy flowers at the markets. I suppose my view of life is too utilitarian.... But those sunflowers were so bright and happy I couldn't resist taking their picture.

Speaking of flowers, the lavender was fragrant and attracted children from all over the market. Lavender is a very popular crop in this part of the state. There are lavender festivals and art events, and some communities earn more from lavender tourism in one month than they do the rest of the year.

From fresh berries to gorgeous pies, how can you say no to local fruit? We picked up a twenty pound box of peaches for $30 from the vendor a few stalls down. Their destiny? Peach and berry crisp, peaches with yogurt, and brandied peaches.

Aha! I found them all! I've never grown cauliflower, but those colors are impossible to resist. I bought one head of romanesco (the green spirals are barely reddish at their tips) and one of the purple. When I steamed the purple, the water below took on that intense color, but the cauliflower buds stayed vibrant!

It's time for bean salads and pretty jars of green and yellow beans to stack in your pantry.

The first pickling cukes have arrived! I didn't get enough from this batch, but there were plenty more at the Everett Farmers Market yesterday. It's time to get pickling.

Hedlin Family Farms is very well known for their tomatoes, but how about those peppers and eggplants? I picked up several of each kind and made an omlette the next morning. Growing heat-loving plants in the Pacific Northwest is a difficult chore, so I'm happy to let family farms do the work for me.

After checking out the market, we stopped in and visited the neighborhood co-op and drove up to Edison for some more farm fun. I'll tell you about that soon. Our first trip to the Mount Vernon Farmers Market will not be our last. When are we going back?

Beef. It's What's for Dinner, Part 1

2010-08-02T10:42:00.000-07:00

Eating local is trendy. It's good for the environment and boosts the local economy. Farmers' markets and CSAs bring consumers closer to growers, and big box distributing companies get pushed back to the periphery. We've joined this bandwagon recently, and we're learning how to find local foods to replace our pre-packaged favorites. More of our money goes into the local farmers' markets and the co-op down the street than to Safeway or Costco, and we're doing better at growing more of our own food.

Let's be clear; we are not obsessed. Sure, it's great to purchase local foods as much as possible, but we love chocolate. I love tea. Olive oil is a must, and Aimee couldn't live without orange juice. We have our weaknesses. One of those is steak.

I was a vegetarian for seven years. I wasn't always loyal to the soybean. I ate fish and chicken when I was low on protein, but I stayed clear of beef and pig meats the whole time. It wasn't out of conscientious objection or environmental reasons, it was because my body just couldn't handle some foods well. When you're at the point of putting A-1 steak sauce on tofu, you know it's time to give meat another chance.

Enter the girlfriend who could not survive without steak. She would eat steak every night of the week and be content. She eats steak for breakfast on Christmas day. When we go out, steak is her favorite thing to order. Let's just say, steak has a stable home with us. So where does one find local beef?

A quick google search will get you started on local farms and ranches producting grass-fed beef in your area. We found several, and we decided to buy half a side of beef for our first attempt. On the Lamb Farm in Arlington has been helpful and friendly every step of the way. We ordered our quarter of a cow and a whole lamb back in February, paid a small deposit, and waited. The call came about three weeks ago. Our cow was headed to Del Fox Meats to be cut to our specifications. Three weeks of aging and a lot of butcher paper later, WE HAVE STEAK!

A second chest freezer found a home in the basement. We also installed extra shelving for all the processing of jams and pickles we're doing this year. How much space does 180 pounds of beef take up? How long will it last us? Those are all questions we're trying to answer. We'll keep you posted as we learn.

While I was up north collecting a quarter of a cow, I also stopped in at Eagle Haven Winery and picked up a case of their Pinot Noir (above) and another case of Sangiovese (below). They give a fantastic discount when you buy in bulk! Their bottles of wine range from $20 to $25 a piece, but we spent around $14 per bottle by buying them by the case. The Pinot Noir is grown in their own vineyards. It doesn't get much more local than that.

As we stock up for the fall and winter to come, it's comforting to see that running out of wine will not be a problem we face for a few months at least. And, if all else fails, Aimee is putting together quite the collection of locally based fruit alcohols! We'll tell you more about that in another post.

Doubling Our Acreage

2010-07-29T08:21:00.000-07:00

When we bought our house three years ago, we immediately began making plans for a garden in the front yard. We ripped out grass and weeds, fought with topsoil, built raised beds, and started growing. That first year we had four raised beds. This year we doubled the number of beds and started growing strawberries and blueberries. Our harvests have been abundant, but there's still never enough space to grow everything we want.

Do you see the 85 foot tall douglas fir right in the middle of all the action? The poor thing had been topped twice, and it didn't fit in the space provided anymore. To give you some perspective of just how big this tree was, our house is the tallest in the neighborhood. We have ten foot ceilings and an attic big enough to be a third floor. I'd estimate the top of our house (at the peak of the roof) is probably 55 feet tall... Maybe 60 feet. The branches of the fir tree scraped the gutters and filled them with needles. There were pinecones (fircones?) all over the yard. Last year the tree got an infestation of tent worms. All in all, it was a disaster waiting to happen. We worried that a wind storm would bring down branches into our house or the neighbor's house. We fought the horrid ground cover growing beneath that damned tree. We watched as sun-loving garden plants were hidden in shade through most of the day. Worst of all, the squirrels who lived in the tree routinely planted peanuts in our potato sacks.

Aimee and I had talked about having the tree removed since the day we moved in. I finally made a few calls two weekends ago. Three bids and a week later, Doug Fir is gone. I took Monday off work to supervise from the upstairs window sill (mug of tea in one hand, camera in other hand). The Tree Pirate (I swear, I did not make that part up) strapped on his spiked shoes and started climbing. He cut down branches as he moved higher, and some of the branches had to be roped and wrangled to keep them clear of the house. To their credit, this company did a fantastic job. Believe it or not, they didn't hurt a single raised bed, the fence was barely touched as they tossed branches over, and they cleaned up the neighbor's yard before they left.

Now look at the space! Oh, and the sunlight. You've never seen such light. There's enough room to build another ten or twelve beds in the space that's been cleared. We'll be working on a rough plan over the summer, but I'm hoping we'll have all the beds in place before winter hits.

Do you have any ideas for this space? How about berries or apple trees? What are you growing in your urban or suburban farms?

I Am a Real Farmer

2010-07-18T18:06:00.000-07:00

There are few moments in urban life that really make you feel like the rest of the world would acknowledge your aggie abilities. Growing parsnips proved to be one of those moments for me. Let me backtrack to the beginning.

I started out growing cacti and succulents in pots way back when all I had was an apartment window or a tiny balcony. Something special happened when I grew my first pot of tomatoes in one of those apartments, and I haven't stopped looking for places to plant veggies since. I've had a couple of p-patches and a couple of houses, and each time I start a new garden, I stick with safe, predictable plants. Somehow they rarely thrive. Do I not have a green thumb? To be honest, growing vegetables in pots can be difficult. They need frequent watering and fertilizing, and you can't leave them unattended for a long weekend if it's going to be hot. I've seen some people have success with potted veggie gardens, but those folks are smart enough to grow their plants in big tubs. Itty Bitty did a great post about this very subject not so long ago. But growing veggies in the soil, raised be or no, can be tough, too.

What was I doing wrong all those years? Why did some plants outperform others? How come my tomatoes always ended up with blossom end rot? And why don't carrot seeds sprout in real life like they do in magazines?

The answers to those questions fall into two categories. For the sake of readability, I'll split them up into theories.

Theory #1

Gardening is not a single year activity. Whether you grow things in pots, raised beds, hanging baskets, neat little rows, or by the acre, improvement in soil composition will have the biggest impact on your plants' performance. For the first time in my life as a farmer, I am beginning to understand how important caring for my soil really is. Tomatoes need calcium and magnesium. Without these essential minerals, blossom end rot will cover every tomato on every vine. Though the soil in those p-patch plots was wonderful, rich, organic soil, everyone had grown tomatoes in it, and no one had put those minerals back.

Hint: If you raise chickens like we do, you'll have an abundance of egg shells to deal with, and egg shells are a fantastic source of calcium and magnesium. When you throw them in the compost, they take forever to break down. Instead, collect a bunch of shells (I read one account of a guy who kept a big jar by his sink for just that purpose), crush them into smaller pieces, and throw them in the oven to dry out. There's no need to spend time baking egg shells by themselves, just keep them handy and put them in the oven while you're baking other things or while the oven is heating up and cooling down. Once they're totally dry (white egg shells will take on a slightly golden hue), crush them into a chunky powder with a mortar and pestle. Sprinkle this fairy dust around the base of your tomato plants.

Our chickens have also taught us a lot about compost. I used to compost for fun, but I never had all the browns and greens to make a good, hot pile. Those days are over! Now we always have one batch resting while another is being turned. Sometimes two batches are getting turned at once! Each bin loads up the wheelbarrow about seven times, which is the equivalent of about 15 to 20 cubic feet of finished compost. We use all of that compost in our raised beds and as high-nutrient mulch for the bedding plants around the house. Read more about our composting here.

My point is that gardening doesn't take place in the spring or summer or fall, but it is a year-round entity in need of a lot of attention. Once I started spending a little time caring for our soil, everything began to grow as I had imagined it.

Theory #2

Pick easier plants to grow. How many years did I cry over some exotic plant that didn't survive? Why did I try so hard to grow tomatoes from seed when there are so many great places to buy starts? I make things hard on myself, but I'm learning to change that. By expanding the variety of things I grow into more reliable plants, I'm having more success. I'm also getting to try out veggies I've never eaten before, and it's a lot of fun!

I tried parsnips for the first time a few years ago when Aimee and I were visiting her family in Ireland. Her mother made carrot and parsnip mash. I fell in love. When we came home, I vowed to buy some parsnip seeds and give it my best shot. I was afraid they'd be slow to germinate or prone to split like all the carrots I'd ever grown, but that didn't stop me from planting them. Here's the result.

That's right, folks. I'm a farmer. Check out my parsnips. Each one weighs almost a pound.

As for germinating carrot seeds, I recently read that covering carrot seeds with a board after you water them will help keep the soil moist until those little suckers sprout. Getting carrot seeds to sprout is the real battle, so I'm looking forward to trying out that neat suggestion. After all, if I can grow rockin' parsnips...

Why Did These Chickens Cross the Road?

2010-07-16T05:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was interviewed by an magazine editor for a story he's writing about chickens and real estate. While most chickens don't have a high enough credit score to qualify for a home loan, there are important considerations for homeowners to make about keeping chickens in an urban neighborhood.

One of our neighbors was so smitten with the idea of having chickens and fresh eggs from his backyard that we helped him get started with his own flock. He built the coop above in two days flat. Pretty impressive!

Light Meat, whose new name is Dotty, rules the new roost. She's quite a bit larger than her sister, Dark Meat (aka Esther), who lives with us.

Donnie, the neighbor in question, has been very good about keeping his chickens clean, fed, watered, and happy.

To help keep predators from digging under the edges of the chicken run, he laid down some nice paving stones. This also makes a big difference when things get rainy and muddy in the winter,

The left side of the run that you can see above is a little screen door. It's just the right size to slip into the coop and grab an unsuspecting chicken.

Though Donnie's birds are only 15 weeks old, he's already provided them with a nest box. I reminded him that it needs a roof to make it feel safe and enclosed, but he still has a month to get that finished before they start laying eggs.

Look at that nifty roosting pole! Those chickens sure do have a good piece of real estate to enjoy! It's very comforting to see the three chicks we raised by hand being cared for with such compassion. Though Donnie still refers to each of them as "he," there's still room to learn and grow. The two sussex girls I couldn't get a clear picture of are growing like weeds. Both are happy and beautiful, and all three hens are proving to be great breeds for a first time chicken farmer.

The Gem of the University District

2010-07-12T10:03:00.000-07:00

This is the first in a series of posts about the Puget Sound farmers markets. We visit a few different ones each week depending on what we need, which market has something unique, which day we can scamper off with canvas bags in hand, and where we plan on being that day. You never know which market you'll find us at, but keep your eyes open and say hello if you spot us! To find the farmers market closest to you, or to go on adventures like we do, check out Puget Sound Fresh, Seattle's Neighborhood Farmers Market Alliance, or Snohomish County Farmers Markets.

The University District Farmers Market is a great chance for people in the city to get to know their growers up close and personal. Located in the parking lot of the University Heights Center for the Community, at the corner of University Way and NE 50th Street, the U District market keeps going year round.The following shots were taken about two weeks ago on a cloudy, very typical Seattle day. That didn't deter the crowds one bit. For anyone concerned about the popularity of farmers markets, look no further!

Tomatoes are finally coming in, so salads don't have to be boring anymore.

Brightly colored swiss chard seems to make everyone smile.

Hothouse cucumbers are likely to jump into your bag before you realize it. They're worth stopping for.

Who doesn't love a towering pyramid of baby carrots? The big carrots won't be in until much later, but these tiny spears of orange brighten up salads and cole slaw with crunch and mild flavor. Have you ever thought about how cheap carrots are in the grocery store? Try growing them at home and you'll quickly see that the effort they require should generate a little more income.

Rainier cherries are everywhere this time of year. Lighter and easier to eat by the dozen, these pacific northwest classics belong in your lunch bag for as long as you can keep them.

While we're not big fans of bing cherries, they sure do add a punch of color you can't ignore.

Tumbling peas and perky broccoli provide plenty of ideas for summer salads, lunches, dinners, and creative quiches. Don't be afraid to try something new. You may just decide you like kohlrabi, celeriac, or rutabagas. If you're wrong, your chickens, compost bin, or worm compsters will help you move on.

Toboton Creek Farm is a great source of boer goat, and their eggs are HUGE!

If you have yet to try goat, stick to something safe and easy. We tried goat bratwurst first, and we fell in love. Four in a pack will set you back $16, but they're absolutely worth every penny. Ask for them early before they sell out.

Berries are everywhere. If you can't make it out to a u-pick farm, be sure to buy them by the half or whole flat at the farmers market. Rinse, slice, add plain yogurt (from a local dairy, of course), sprinkle with granola, and make all your co-workers jealous as you feast after staff meetings. We go through a full flat of berries every week, topped with Grace Harbor Farms' plain yogurt. Our local co-op even stocks some locally produced granolas. Could everyone stop including coconut though? Some of us are allergic.

After watching Aimee drool over those raspberries, I knew they wouldn't last long on the car ride home.

If you haven't started making batches of jams and preserves, the time is ripe! Always be sure to ask local berry farmers if they'll give you a discount for buying lots and lots (like the three half flats we brought home yesterday), or if they have any slightly squished fruit which is still perfect for jam.

We've been blown away by the juices, ciders, wines, and vinegars available from Rockridge Orchards, and you'll be a convert, too. They provide sips of all the juices they sell, and those gorgeous bottles are good for a deposit on your return visit. We're never going back to the soulless vinegars sold in commercial grocery stores now that we've tried their apple cider vinegar.

Have you ordered your heritage turkey for Thanksgiving yet? Jerry and Janelle at Stokesberry Sustainable Farm in Olympia are happy to take your order now. We have a turkey reserved (which requires a small deposit and a smidge of reliability), and we're hoping to convince our extended family to go local for our feast this year.

Olsen Farms is a great place to pick up grass-fed meats. They're extremely helpful and willing to talk about their products, so don't be shy!

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Grass-fed meat is pricey stuff. Before you turn up your nose at a $15 per pound top sirloin, think about what goes into the beef you consume. Grass-fed animals are happier, healthier, and their meat is better for you. Not only does grass-fed meat provide you with a great supply of omega 3 fatty acids, it also leaves your full belly with that warm, satisfied feeling of doing something right for cows, farmers, and the environment.

Long Live Rusty

2010-07-05T11:19:00.000-07:00

Friday night we butchered Rusty. It was very difficult for me. I cried and shook while holding the axe in my hand. I never really knew just how hard it would be, and it left me with a lot of emotional conflict.

Ultimately, this experience was necessary for me, for us as a family, perhaps even for our neighborhood. I don't have any regrets, but I do have a lot of respect. Raising meat birds is a goal I've had in mind for a while now, and Rusty gave me the chance to see if I could really follow through. I don't know the answer to that question just yet, but at least I have a very clear picture of what slaughtering looks and feels like now.

Here are a few of the highlights from our Rusty weekend celebration:

Plucking feathers is long, tiring work.
When the books all say to deprive your meat chickens of food for 12 to 24 hours, they really mean 30 hours. Ew.
A sharp knife would have been a godsend compared to that axe.
Chickens don't bleed near as much as I thought.
Rusty had some iridescent bluish green feathers. The base of them, in his skin, had this funny bluish dye.
Entrails brought out the science geek in both of us.
Dogs drool over gizzards, hearts, and livers.
Heritage breeds have awesome legs. Really. Wow, Rusty. His little manly breasts weren't shabby either.
The flavor of Rusty's meat tasted like.... well... grass from the backyard. It was sweet and tender, and it took the herbed butter well. The barbecue wasn't bad either.
We haven't been woken by a ruck-a-roo in three days.

Where Did Ingrid Go? Part 2

2010-06-30T21:52:00.000-07:00

Some of you may recall that Ingrid recently flew the coop for a night of adventures and mayhem. Strict interrogations led nowhere. That chicken knows how to keep her beak shut. In this day and age, however, the internet is an unstoppable tool of revealing truth. The following pictures have been leaked to us in confidence (please, don't ask us to reveal our sources). In combination with letters of admonishment from local business owners, we have reconstructed Ingrid's steps.

22:16 hours. Ingrid is spotted on the dance floor, shaking her groove thing. She apparently terrified the crowd when she let loose to "Play that funky music, white meat."

23:47 hours. The owner of a very nice pub in downtown Everett told us, "A young thing, looked like a spring chicken to me, well she came in and set the whole place on its ear with her drinking games and cackling laugh. I had to cut her off at the twelfth pint, and that crazy thing threatened to peck me!"

25:12 hours. A very nervous source also sighted Ingrid at a local tattoo parlor. When asked what tattoo she requested, he explained that she had had an extensive argument with the tattoo artist about the word PLAYER vs LAYER. We have seen no evidence of any tattoos yet.

Though this last photo came to us courtesy of the world wide web, we cannot trace its source. The best we could conclude were the following rules.

You do not talk about chicken club.
You do NOT TALK about chicken club.

Winona the Scissor Chicken

2010-06-22T11:09:00.000-07:00

Most animals are born healthy, happy, and ready to eat and play. Chickens are no exception. You'll frequently have great success with very little input. We've now raised twelve chickens, and only one has died. We also seem to be having very good odds on the rooster front. Our choice to raise heritage breeds is based on a number of different things, but one of the more important factors is their resistance to diseases and illness. Only one member of our flock is not a heritage breed, and this post is about her.

Winona was brought home to be raised for the neighbor across the street. Wyandottes are calm and easy to handle, and we thought that she would be a good breed for a novice. Along with two sussex and one light brahma hen, our neighbor's coop would be full of fat, happy, calm chickens. Fate interrupted (as it always does), and I dropped a board on little Winnie's head. Ouch! Her survival endeared her to us in so many ways, and we knew she would stay with our flock from then on.

Winnie and her crew are now just over three months old. They've all grown up well, but we began to see a slight problem with our little grey girl early on. At first I thought she was having residual problems from my clumsy board-dropping, but it has become apparent over time that she suffers from scissor beak. What is scissor beak? We wondered the same thing.

As you can see in these photos, Winnie's upper and lower beaks don't match up correctly. It gives the appearance of her beak being scissor-like. This typically results from a misalignment of the skull, and it's more prevalent in hybrid birds (not just chickens).

What do you do now? Scissor beak can be a death sentence for some birds. Experienced owners may even prefer to cull deformed chicks as soon as they're spotted. Aw, heck. We can't cull Winnie after all we've been through!

The big problem with scissor beak is difficulty eating. Some birds with bad beaks will starve to death. If you have a chicken with this deformity, switch over to mash instead of pellet food, or make some mash available. It's easier for them to scoop mash up in their beaks. Remember, they can't peck like a normal chicken, so they need to scoop with their bottom beak. (Chicken feed is typically available in two forms. Pellet form is small, roundish pellets, a lot like rabbit or gerbil food. Mash is a crumbly texture, a little like grapenuts.)
Eye problems go hand-in-hand with scissor beaks. We toss worms to Winnie, and she always pecks two inches to the left of the worm.
Don't you dare breed a chicken with scissor beak. Since this is genetically related, it'll be passed down to junior, too. Some scientists speculate that scissor beak is the result of malnutrition or poor incubating. The jury may still be out, but the eleven other healthy chickens we've raised have confirmed for me that this is a genetic problem.
Regular maintenance can help your scissor chicken live a healthy life. Beaks are like fingernails. They can be trimmed or filed down, but this must be done regularly.

Side note: Winnie also appears to have an abnormal growth on the left side of her head and face. We don't know what that is or what it means, but you'll know as soon as we do. If anyone has clues, fill us in. Her left wattle is deformed, and there are odd lumps on the left side of her face, behind her wattle and above her eye. Don't lose faith! Winnie is a tough chick.

Manicure, anyone? Winnie's scissor beak is very mild right now, so we're keeping on top of it with regular beak filing sessions. Note the firm grip with the left hand, one thumb on top of the skull, forefinger wrapped under the chin. Don't choke the poor thing, but hold her tight. File away from the head, making sure to round off the edge and tip. Sharp beaks hurt! This chore is not for the skittish. Get yourself and your chickens used to being held close and tight for just such occasions as this one, and be thankful they don't have teeth like your dog or cat does.

Where Did Ingrid Go? Part 1

2010-06-15T08:30:00.000-07:00

The other night I went out to put the chickens away. We let them wander in the yard in the afternoons, and they find their way back into the coop when it gets dark. There's some trust involved in this relationship; trust and bricks jammed in under the gaps in the fence. Since clipping Ellen and Portia's wings, things have been calm when we let the girls out to roam. They peck and scratch, they take dust baths in the dirt, they hide under the huge weeping maple (the clubhouse), they dig in the compost. Life is good. On the particular night in question, I poked my head into the coop and counted. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. It was getting dark. I counted again. Seven. Damn. Where was Ingrid? Her favorite snack is cracked corn (scratch). I shook the plastic tub of scratch and called out to her. She usually comes running. Still no Ingrid.

Was she under the maple tree? I grabbed a flashlight and started hunting for the missing bird.

Maybe she was in the compost. She loves compost. Nope. No sign of her.

Could she have flown up into the lilac tree? Ingrid's wings aren't clipped, but she rarely tries to take flight. A sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Where had she gone? This wasn't normal. Maybe a hawk had gotten her. We began looking for signs of a struggle. Nothing.

I wandered around the sides and front of the house, which are fenced separately. The girls aren't allowed up there. Nope. Not behind the perennials.

Or the weed-infested crocosmias.

Not even behind these things, whatever they are...

I even poked my head into the strawberries. No Ingrid. She was nowhere to be found. I walked clear around the block in rubber wellies with flashlight in hand. Neighbors stared suspiciously. I asked if they'd seen a runaway chicken. "Oh," they said. "Nope. No chicken." We gave up the search and called it a night, going into the house to mourn the loss of one of our favorite girls.

I never thought this would happen in the city. Okay, that's inexperience talking, and I feel ridiculous now that I've said it, but it's true. When you live in the city, you forget that there are other animals around, not just the ones you raise in a wire-mesh-enclosed coop. We've had cougars and coyotes spotted in our neighborhood. Cats go missing sometimes. Even the alley cats are a little feral. Coutryside and mountain foothills are really only spitting distance over the highway 2 tressle, so it shouldn't be a shock to think that a hawk, eagle, or owl could snatch one of our beloved hens right out of the yard.

Do you miss Ingrid, too? Rest assured, faithful blog readers, she's not actualy gone. But I'll give you ten guesses as to where she scampered off to.

A Letter from a Chicken

2010-06-08T19:28:00.000-07:00

Dear faithful bog readers:

Lately there has been some very bad press about a rooster on the City Chicken Farm. I'm here to clear that bit of libel up for everyone. My name is Milla, not Rusty. I am a girl chicken. Sure, I have an impressive comb and wattles, and sometimes I... ahem... crow a little bit, but making specific (and incorrect) assumptions about my gender is wrong. It's... genderist. I'm here to set the record straight. I would like to present chickens' exhibit A, otherwise known as "ha, ha, you were wrong."

There you have it, folks. This is indisputable evidence on my behalf. It took half a day to spit that sucker out, and I know it's a little under-sized, but I'm a very young pullet, so it stands to reason that my first eggs would be smallish.

You may not realize it, but the newer generations of chickens are under a lot of pressure these days. Laying eggs earlier is all the rage. I submit my experiences humbly and ask that you think before you begin labeling your chicks as "male" or "female." You cannot possibly fathom how it affects our psyche. Thank you,

Milla Girl-Chicken

Note from actual blog representative:

We think it actually came from Ingrid, which stands to reason after her latest escapades. More on that soon. In the meantime, it seemed equally logical to call this "Rusty's egg," his last ditch effort to save himself from the basting brush. You be the judge.

PS- He currently weighs 3 pounds 9 ounces, and is twelve weeks old. Recipes are welcome.

Growing Up is Hard to Do

2010-05-31T10:40:00.000-07:00

The babies are now around ten weeks old. Can I still call them babies? They've grown very fast, and they're really starting to look like pullets. So what's the next step? When you have two flocks, integration is always on your mind. Lots of discussion posts and blogs will tell you to keep the birds separated, to introduce them slowly, and to intervene if the pecking gets too vicious. That's all great, but these are city birds in a small yard. Here are a few ways to maximize your success.

Let your chicks grow up in safety. We moved our brooder box into its own corner of the yard (literally a small corner; ours is only 6 feet by 10 feet, and it's wedged between the garage and the fence). The kids had grass and dirt, netting overhead to protect them from predators, and a mesh door to see the other chickens when they were out roaming.
Introduce everyone in open space. We let all the chickens out in the backyard (again, our backyard is not big by any means). They're distracted by open space and grass to eat, and there's lots of room to run away if a fight breaks out. Added benefit - an open yard is tough to claim in a turf war.
Move the chicks into their new home at night. Darkness is a signal for chickens to sleep. It's an easy time to catch, move, and poke fun at your girls. When they wake up, all the chickens are in the new space together. Side note - this is not as unsettling as a human waking up in a new home with strangers in the bed beside them. Chickens don't think about things as deeply as we do.
Distract the combined flock. This can be as simple as throwing in scratch (a mixture of corn and other grains fed as a treat), veggie scraps (particularly big things like whole heads of cabbage), or a new layer of straw, which always gives chickens a fun time scratching.
Make sure there's plenty of food and water for everybody. Possessiveness over food is common, so more feeders equals more opportunity for eats. Keep an eye on the younger birds, and make sure they're eating and drinking.
Chill out. Seriously. They're chickens. Expect pecking. This is a normal way for them to establish dominance. If you get one hen really attacking another, you may need to intervene. Otherwise, you should see an improvement in about a week.

Last night was the big night for our kids. We snuck into the brooder box, grabbed tails, dragged them out, and split up the family. Three went across the street into the new coop Donnie had just finished that day. I'll snap a few pictures of it and its inhabitants in a few weeks. The other three got thrown into the big girls' coop. Things were tense this morning. There were arguments over food, and Winnie and Rusty had a very bad landing when they emerged from the upper coop into the run. It takes time to learn how to climb ladders. To ease the hostilities, I harvested some of the half-eaten cabbages from the front yard and threw them in. You can clearly see the big girls on one side...

... and the next generation on the other. All of this reminds me of the first day of high school. The big kids are really big, and you feel tiny as a freshman. Then someone slams you into a locker and steals your lunch money.

It's pretty tough not to fall victim to my motherly instincts. I want to keep the little ones safe, and I hate to see Ursula and Raquel picking on Winnie (she has so far received at least two very sharp pecks to her back). Rusty is having some extreme self-confidence issues, and Dark Meat seems lost without her sister, Light Meat. I do understand, however, that they'll work all of these problems out in their own ways.

What was high school like for you?

Update - If you thought this post was cool here, just check it out now on the Urban Farm Hub. You can find posts from the City Chicken Farm at UFH on Fridays.

Gender Identity Issues

2010-05-21T13:20:00.000-07:00

Alright, I'll admit it. We have been in denial. The concept has flickered across our brains since the end of our first week with the babies, but neither of us wanted to say it. So, instead, we went with what sounded "reasonable" in the moment.

"She's such a big girl!"

"She must be a week or two older than the other two Sussex."

"Look at that healthy comb and those wattles! She's gonna start laying before they get out of their brooder!"

You can sense what's coming, because your judgement isn't clouded by adoration or affection. In all honesty, we really liked Milla. She was sweet and curious, didn't mind being held any more than the others, and her feathering was second to none. I was really looking forward to having her around for a long time.

Last Friday, I came home from work to a disturbing sound in the backyard. It was coming from the brooder box. I stopped and listened, certain that one of the babies was in distress or dying. "Booor-kle!" I stepped closer. "Booor-kle!" It sounded like an accordion being run over by a car. I peeked into the brooder and watched Milla puff out her chest, open her beak, and borkle. I went from 10% convinced she was a rooster to 98% convinced. Aimee didn't believe me until she heard it on Sunday morning. "Booor-kle!" New roosters don't really get their voice for a while. Think of it like puberty in human boys. Milla was just learning how to crow. It will get worse.

"What do we call her.... er.... him, now?" Aimee asked. I shrugged and began suggesting similar names: Milo, Milton, Milos, Malcolm. We are still calling her Milla. Her. Milla. It hasn't sunk in completely. What to do with a rooster in the city? Everett municipal code, like so many urban chicken codes in other cities, prohibits keeping roosters, and it's for good reason. Contrary to city logic, roosters do not crow exclusively at sunrise. They'll wake you up any time they feel like crowing, especially if you're tired, it's late, or you have an important college paper due the next day. In addition to those lovely aspects, roosters defend their flocks from enemies. You might be one. Google "rooster" and you'll be inundated with tales of rooster attacks and wounds that are physical and emotional. Adult males grow a spur on their legs. It's a little like a long toenail, but it's sharp like a scythe. They will defend themselves and their hens to the death. (I am inwardly denying that these characteristics could ever be demonstrated by sweet, shy Milla. Of course she would grow up to be a nice rooster!) If you can't keep him, what will you do with him? Some folks hand their unwanted roos off to unsuspecting caretakers, others post ads on Craigslist and don't ask questions about what will happen to the little boy after the exchange takes place. By the way, eating roosters is common in lots of countries. We just don't realize it happens in the US, because we're really out of touch with the source of our food. Aimee and I have already discussed raising meat birds in a year or two. It looks like we get our chance early. Yes, that's right. Milla is going to be a barbecued bird sooner than later.

Stay tuned for more on the dilemmas of raising and roasting pets.

I'd Like to Thank the Academy...

2010-05-20T13:07:00.000-07:00

Many of you, like me, have a long list of blog postings to peruse through the day. Who needs work when you can read about goats, chickens, donkeys, bees, and all the other goodies associated with farm life in the cities and the 'burbs? A couple of my favorite bloggers have recently awarded me, and I'd like to thank them for extending their attention my way.

Thoughts from a yodeling goatherder is a refreshing and quirky read. She presented me with the following award.

Mommypants! is one of those mothers who does it all. She presented me with this!

All this attention is likely to go to my head! The rules for each of these awards is a little different, but I'm going to combine them. I'll be including ten things about me (that you might not know unless you've spent more than ten seconds in my general vicinity), and passing these awards on to a few other blogs I deem worthy. Ready?

1. My parents deliberated over my name upon my birth. Dad was all for Astra, Mom liked Tellsie. Yeah. The kids in the third grade couldn't possibly have made fun of either of those... On the bright side, my grandparents on my mother's side wanted me to be named... wait for it..... Chitty. Our fine four-fendered friend. Yeah, I got lucky with the name Robin.

2. I know every lyric in every song and moment of the following musicals, and I can distort them for use in other situtaions, like singing about the dogs being hungry or the bus being late.

Phantom of the Opera
Les Miserables
Cats

3. My last name comes from the brand of guitar I play. Seriously. Taylors are fine, fine instruments, by the way.

4. As a kid I was in a professional children's choir in Indiana. Yep. I can actually sing. My mom was an opera singer, in fact. I hear tell kids ruined her chance at fame and fortune.

5. I have a 68 inch long tattoo. It spans the length of my arms and back when my arms are outstretched. The entire thing is a segment of lyrics from a Patty Griffin song, and the last word, my favorite, is "disgrace." I get a lot of questions about it, so I can say with accuracy that I am very well read.

6. I had to travel 5000 miles one way to meet the girl of my dreams, and I'd do it all over again (but I'd rather not repeat the long distance phone bills).

7. I have one of the best collections of juvenille and children's fiction you can find. My favorite is Time Stops for No Mouse by Michael Hoeye. Hermux rocks.

8. I can parallel park our Subaru Outback Wagon in one shot.

9. This July marks my 17th year of living in Washington state. My parents and I moved here when I was a sophomore in high school.

10. My brother and his wife life in Greenville, South Carolina. I haven't seen them in nine years.

I'll be passing along the Versatile Blogger award to:

Adventures in urban homesteading

The Itty Bitty Farm in the City

Whispering Acres

And the Sugar Doll goes to:

Come by chance

Two Chicks and a Hen

Risks and Rewards

2010-05-12T13:37:00.000-07:00

Someday we'll have a real farm with acreage, fences, rolling hills, maybe even some orchards and wild forest. It might even be at the corner of Field Road and Farm to Market Road (which has got to be the perfect place for a dream farm, right?). My daydreams are filled with images of red barns and ambling chicken coops, wire spools for the goats to play on, jars of freshly made honey in the pantry, and walking the perimeter of our property with the dogs off-leash. Daydreams are great. They never contain problems, storms, pests, or failures that bring on heartache. I could hold onto that mental image of the ideal farm, or I could face the reality that an agricultural life is going to be a balance of good and bad outcomes.

Last Monday we had a wind storm. It bent the stems of tomato plants and blueberry bushes, it slaughtered tiny lettuce transplants, and it was impossible for my mind to be anywhere but there, even though I had plenty of non-farm things to deal with. I get about twenty minutes between the end of work and the beginning of college classes three nights a week. I sneak in a quick dinner most nights, but there are other things to be done: dogs need to wee, eggs need to be collected, baby chicks need to be fed and watered. On Monday I stared out the front window at the ruined raised beds that used to be filled with produce-to-be, and I felt like crying. There was no time to rescue them, and the storm was still in full swing. Aimee propped them up with sturdier stakes that night, but I doubt they'll recover.

This is the first year we're really dedicating ourselves to growing as much of our own food as we're able, and it's been exciting up until now. That storm made it feel scary, and I found myself wishing we'd planted more. This is food security at its most revealing level. How does a farmer survive when disaster strikes? How do you make it through winter if your potato crop is stricken with blight? It's becoming obvious to me that farming is part science, part math, part faith (and part luck). Nature is going to take her share, whether you plan for it or not. Likewise, you don't gain without risking.

I've been debating whether to put the chicks outside, but something keeps nagging me to let them enjoy the brooder box a while longer. It seems a tough balance between safety and freedom, and I don't know where to draw that line. Am I over-protective? Probably. Are they in danger of getting hurt by being crowded now that they've grown so big? Absolutely. But if something happens in the wide world of outdoor living, I'll feel terrible. The compromise-in-action is this: we redesigned the brooder box with a mesh ceiling and a re-purposed set of cupboard doors (remnants of the same batch that supplied the main coop with its own doors). Potato Corner, one of the completely unused sections of the backyard, was already defined by two sections of fence and an outer wall of the garage. We created a fourth side out of more scrap materials, which now gives us a "playpen" for the little ones. (Why is it Potato Corner? A little batch of volunteer potatoes sprouted up there in our first summer in this house. They're gone now, but the name stuck.) After stringing poultry netting over the top of the area, our new nursery is complete. The babies have enjoyed their turf quite a bit already, and Nature hasn't been cruel.

Six Piece Bucket

2010-05-03T07:57:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of adventures to be had when you're a baby chicken. Brooder box cleaning day could just be your chance to get out and see the real world. How do you transport six lively chicks from their brooder box to a grassy playpen? Stuff 'em in a bucket! The real trick is to keep them confined enough that they can't flap their wings. Flapping = escape.

The chicks are now about five and six weeks old. Can you believe how big they are? This weekend was their first real taste of the outdoor life. It was cloudy and breezy, but they toughed it out. We've created a little "playpen" area for them to explore in. It's got grass, weeds, flowers, and lots of dirt to scratch in.

Look at little Dark Meat! (We seriously need a better name for her and her sister, so don't hesitate to offer suggestions.) Still the smallest, Dark Meat is getting less shy and more bold with each passing day. Her feathering is beautiful.

You can really see the big girl feathers filling in on Light Meat's chest. She's nearly doubled in size just in the last week.

One of the two nameless Sussex discovered the roosting pole right around the same time Winnie saw it. They hung out there for a good long while. Roosting has become one of the favorite things to do lately. I've got a small dowel rod in their brooder box, but it's getting so much use that it may break any day now! It really wasn't meant for such chunky babies.

Winnie is queen of the roost. Don't even try to push her off.

Exploring is fun, but we like to stick together. When the wind blows, we puff up our feathers to stay warm. Huddling is an instinctual behavior in baby chicks. There's strength in numbers, you know. Even adult chickens prefer to be in a group, which is why they're always seen as a flock. If you take your young chicks out for some sunshine and grass, watch for this feather ruffling business. It's a sign that they're cold and may need to go back in their warm brooder box. We try to limit their outside time to 20 and 30 minute episodes.

Just like that first bunch of weeds we tossed into their brooder box, being outside is new and a little intimidating. They mostly huddled and explored a very small area, but they'll learn to run and flap soon enough.

Springtime may be chilly, but Dark Meat's feathers and fluff are downy soft! She sat with me for a few minutes to shelter from the wind. Everyone went back in the bucket and home to a clean brooder box at the end of a great adventure.

Best Tulips of 2010

2010-04-26T05:08:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in a previous post, we recently attended the Skagit Tulip Festival. Below are some of the photo highlights from our tours through beautiful tulip fields. They speak for themselves.

Urban Farming in Translation

2010-04-23T09:06:00.000-07:00

Before college classes got the better of me and my free time, I read several books about urban farming, eating local, etc. The Education of an Urban Farmer, by Novella Carpenter, was a fascinating find. Raising a garden on a vacant lot, slaughtering turkeys for her own Thanksgiving feast, and feeding pigs from the dumpsters of organic restaurants in West Oakland, California, was a little far out for the type of urban farming we do in our own home, but there remains a kinship between all types of urban farmers in the struggles and emotional desires that come with raising your own food. Below is a video interview with Novella.

**WARNING** Some aspects of this video contain graphic images of animal slaughter and butchering. If you're not comfortable, don't watch.

OBSESSIVES: Urban Farmer - on CHOW.com from CHOW.com on Vimeo.

The Perfect Neighborhood, Part 1

2010-04-22T07:57:00.000-07:00

Our neighborhood is the best. When you buy a house, they say that location is the most important thing to consider. But how do you test out that location without living there for a while? We spent a lot of time driving, walking, and riding buses in Everett before we narrowed down our possible areas, so we knew which important items on our list could be satisfied by each part of the community. North Everett won out over South Everett for its sidewalks, bus service, and sheer walkability to local amenities. But the mystery of finding the perfect block to live on can't be part of the above equation. Thus enters luck. Having neighbors you get along with is a product of this.

Our block (literally from one stop sign on the east end to the next stop sign on the west end) contains about fourteen houses. We know just about everyone after living there for two and a half years. Below is a description of events from last Sunday afternoon.

Rick, two houses down on our side of the street, has two daughters who spend time with him every other weekend. The younger, Emily, is about 9, the older is 14. Apparently they had been sneaking peeks of our chickens over the fence during their visits. We dropped off half a dozen eggs with Rick on Friday afternoon and invited him and his kids over to see the hens and chicks. Rick's girls got up and cooked those eggs for breakfast (a big surprise for their father), and were especially eager to visit the coop. When they walked into the yard, they caught sight of Ingrid first. She was foraging over by the compost, one of her usual haunts. We watched them scratch and peck and flap for a little while, then we toured the coop itself. Both girls were impressed with the nest boxes but slightly disappointed that no one had laid any eggs yet. I asked if they wanted to see the babies, and their eyes lit up. "You have baby chickens, too?" Emily asked. I took them into the garden shed and we stared into the brooder box, enthralled with the loud peeps from such tiny birds. Both girls were eager to hold the chicks but afraid to hurt them by gripping too tight (a common feeling when you're new to the baby chick gig), and they asked great questions about chickens in general. Emily apparently spoke of nothing but chicken facts for the rest of the day. Their parting gift was several small boxes of stale cheerios, which the new brood has enjoyed quite a bit.

This isn't the first time we've had kids over to visit the chickens. Co-workers, neighbors, and general acquaintances have stopped by with both of our broods to collect eggs, pet soft feathers, and inspect our coop made from recycled building materials. Our adventure is their adventure, too.

Stacy and Scott live next door to Rick. In combination with Rick and a few other members of the neighborhood, they're creating a garden in Rick's backyard. This is their second year, and they decided to plow up even more space for more plants. Last year they grew corn. I worried that they wouldn't get any ears of corn due to the fact that they planted a row, not a block. Corn pollinates with wind, so a block makes it easier for the pollen to transfer. I was so wrong. Aimee and I enjoyed several of their ears of corn. They weren't the biggest, but they were quite the achievement. This year they're planting corn, beets, leeks, potatoes, and bush beans. We're already bartering eggs for produce to come. Stacy and Scott frequently have people in the neighborhood hanging out in their front or back yards. They provide plenty of cheap beer, everyone else provides humor and company. We sat with them in the grass on Sunday. The weather was gorgeous and sunny. Scott wants to move to Montana, but his children live here in Washington. Both of them are reluctant to give up the neighborhood we share. We nodded and tipped our bottles back.

The neighbors on our block put together a couple of "events" each year. Halloween and the big summer yard sale are huge. Bonfires, beer, snacks, and great company round each ocassion out. The highlight is spending time with neighbors, who also happen to be really good friends. We watch each other's houses and pets, we nark on kids, and we band together to run out the drug-dealin'-no-good types. The combined efforts of this motley group rousted the final crack dealer from our street just last year. Bear in mind, there are four children under the age of six on this block. We want a clean place for them to grow up.

Donnie and Val live across the street from out house. Donnie is all talk. Honestly, some of the stuff that comes out of his mouth is downright ingenious in its fiction. Val, on the other hand, doesn't take his bs for more than a minute. Three of the chicks in our brooder box will be going to live at Donnie's house once they're big enough for the coop. He'll begin building it in the next few weekends, and he's been over to look at ours several times for inspiration. When we formed the idea of buying some chicks, his only request was for "perty, colorful birds." In fact, he really adored Ingrid, our Golden Campine. She's truly a beautiful bird, but her single comb and small body size make her a bit more work in cold weather. Instead, I settled on some hardy, friendly breeds that lay right through the coldest months. Donnie leaned over our fence while we were mulching the raised beds with chicken compost. "You addin' dirt?" I nodded and briefly explained mulch. Donnie asked about the potatoes growing in burlap sacks next. All of our garden veggies are in the front yard, like an edible landscape of sorts. He pointed at the onions left over from last year and marveled at their sheer size. I showed him the seed heads that were coming up. Before we finished, Donnie ran back to his house and retrieved a frozen bag of croppy he'd fished last summer, complete with a recommendation on how to fry them up for fish and chips. Last year he gave us venison. Donnie loves to hunt and fish. He also promised to bring home a ten foot long douglas fir beam from work for us. We've been gutting our upstairs and are ready to start the remodel. That beam will hopefully help restructure one of the windows which lacks a header.

Donnie and Val have been in their house longer than anyone on the block. They've seen a lot of trends come and go, and Donnie has a story about how he had a hand in every one of those changes. Val lends and borrows books with me. She doesn't seem to relate to many other people, so I try to be a good listener when she comes over. She's obsessed with Wicked and shares a kinship with Elphaba.

Brian and Jessica live next door to us. They're a young couple who bought a house about the same time we did, and they're recently married. Jessica is an elementary school teacher, and she's fascinated with all things science right now. She waved me over to her front yard just as Donnie was heading in for the night. A hoard of ants had flooded the sidewalk leading up to their front door. She felt bad about killing them, and she wanted to get video of the ants for her class. Donnie and I suggested she look on YouTube the next day, but today was a good day for spraying something noxious. Brian came out and handled the task. Jessica couldn't watch the slaughter. Instead, she leaned over our fence and talked to us about biology. "So my class set up these different environments with varying amounts of moisture to figure out what grows best in dry soil, moist soil, and really wet soil. But mold ended up growing in the wet stuff. Part of the lesson was about living versus non-living things, and the course book listed soil as non-living. One of the boys in the class asked me about it, and he reasoned that soil is actually alive. I told him I agreed. Was I right?" I spent a few minutes explaining that soil is a little bit of both, but that it's more alive than dead (so long as we're discussing natural soils). We then talked about the mold and bugs that appeared in the soil, even though it was bagged. She was very relieved when I explained that mold spores travel by air and that's how they get into bagged environments, and that some insect eggs and larvae are in the soil before you add moisture. The water brings them to life.

Brian and Jessica have turned out to be great friends, and we have a lot in common with them. Brian has helped me learn about fixing electrical problems in the house, and Jessica wrote an amazing children's story based on the great escape of Portia.

The goings-on of our neighborhood are constant entertainment to us, and we wouldn't trade this block for anything short of a real farm on acreage. Someday we will contemplate relocating for that very reason, but I know we'll be giving up this little bit of utopia.

Bustin' Out of the Brooder Box

2010-04-19T08:13:00.000-07:00

The babies are growing like mad. Seriously. This isn't our first batch of chicks, so I know what I'm talking about. Our older girls fattened up at a steady pace, but they took their time, one feather before the next. Not so for the new generation! We figure that the youngest (Dark Meat and Light Meat) are about three weeks old, seeing as we brought them home a little over three weeks ago. Winona and the three Sussex are clearly older, and we think the Sussex are probably two weeks ahead of their sisters. But really, at five weeks of age how many chicks look like this??

Meet Milla. She's the largest of the Speckled Sussex girls, and she's pretty much in charge in Brooder Box Land. Just check out that comb! And wattles?? At five weeks? She and the other no-name Sussex are getting pretty desperate to see the world beyond their plywood walls. They get a handful of weeds every couple of days, which leads to lots of fun, chasing, munching, and scratching, but it's not a fair representation of free ranging. It's already clear that these ladies will not like to be contained.

Sussex are a dual purpose breed, which means they lay great eggs but you can also raise them for meat. Prior to the major industrialization of the poultry industry in England, they were the bird to raise in your backyard or farmyard flock. They have a reputation for being calm, friendly, and hearty, qualities that definitely jive with our way of urban farming. Meat birds also have a reputation for eating tons of food and growing at a frightening pace. Milla is proving that to be true. While she won't be a chicken dinner in our household, we'll be using this opportunity to learn more about dual purpose chickens for our future farm. Ultimately we would like to have our own supply of meat birds in addition to layers. A single breed that provides both of those would simplify matters.

As for little Winona, things are looking up! You can see her bum eye in the picture above. Originally she could only open it part of the way. She can clearly see, and she frequently squints at me with that eye from the brooder box, but we were concerned that the muscles around it were damaged. Her recovery is at 99.9% now, and we think she'll be just fine by the time everyone gets moved out to the big coop.

She may look a little scruffy, but those big girl feathers will fill her out soon. This week we'll be raising the heat lamp in the brooder box by a few inches. Baby chicks need a warm, draft free environment in which to grow up. A heat lamp on one side of the brooder box gives them a warm place to cuddle and sleep, but there's also plenty of room to venture into cooler temps. Since our kids are a mixture of ages, we need a mixture of temperatures to keep them happy and healthy. As their adult feathers grow and replace their baby fluff, they can tolerate cooler, more varied weather. While most books say to decrease the brooder box temp by five degrees per week, I find it's easier to judge the temperature by the chicks' behavior. If they crowd under the lamp they're cold. If they steer clear of it, it's too hot. A good combination of napping, scurrying, and chirping means all is well.

This weekend we attended the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival. I'll post a few pictures of the tulips in a few days, but the other highlights of our journey included the following.

Golden Glen Creamery is a small, family owned farm in Bow, Washington. They produce milk in glass bottles, flavored butters, and several types of artisan cheeses. They keep gurnseys and holsteins, but with a total herd of about 80 cattle, they are very small in comparison to the large dairies in Washington State. We've been buying their whole, cream-top milk at our local co-op, and we really recommend their chocolate and strawberry milk! The cinnamon butter is heavenly on toast, and their aged cheddar is delightful on a whole grain cracker. Aimee and I toured their facility, and, despite the pouring rain, still had a great time seeing the cows, calves, and cheese-making ladies.

You can find Golden Glen products at PCC, some Whole Foods stores, and many small co-ops in the region. Want to see more dairy cows hard at work? Be sure to visit their farm on June 27th for their open house. We'll probably be there, too!

Hemlock Highlands Ranch is one of the only producers of Scottish Highland cattle. They're a very old heritage breed, hearty, tolerant, and docile. We got to pet a six week old baby, and he was twice the size of our biggest dog, Aengus! His coat was soft and long and pale, much like the bull pictured above. While we have already pre-ordered half a side of beef from another local farmer who raises grass-fed cattle and sheep, Hemlock Highlands will be on our list of farms to try out in the future.

Right across the road is Eagle Haven Winery, producer of several types of local wines. We were impressed by their Sangiovese (an Italian red wine), Apple wine (from their very own apples), and the exceptional Pinot Noir, also grown right there on highway 20. We bought a bottle of each and will likely return to buy by the case.

The bounty of Skagit County sure did surprise us this weekend. Our first forays into eating locally are going well, and the beginning of farmer's market season is right around the corner. It feels so positive to step into the tiny store on a family farm and buy milk and cheese from the very people who milked the cows and stirred the curds by hand. I'm looking forward to more discoveries like the ones we had this weekend.

Law and Order: Special Chickens Unit

2010-04-08T08:13:00.000-07:00

Law and Order: Special Chickens Unit

In the criminal justice system, baby-chick-hurting offenses are considered especially heinous. In Everett, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad know as the Special Chickens Unit. These are their stories.

1932 PM, Garden Shed in back yard, Everett.

It was unintentional. I swear. I was checking on the babies (who we had only had for three days), and one of the boards balanced on the top of the brooder box fell in. Five chicks scurried out of the way. One got trapped under the board, and it struck hard when it came down. I gasped, then quickly removed the board and saw the damage. The poor little Blue Wyandotte was lying on her side, limp, barely squeaking her protest. I picked her up and cradled her in the palm of my hand. We had weighed her the day before, and she came in around 55 grams. Just to put this into perspective, the smallest eggs we collect from our Hamburgs weigh in around 42 grams. The biggest eggs, which are laid by Raquel, weigh in at about 58 grams, not including double-yolkers. This chick was tiny.

I figured I had broken her neck. I rushed into the mudroom with her, urgently yelling at Aimee to come lend moral support. I felt horrible. I had unwittingly killed a tiny baby in her first week of life. I gently stroked her little, fluffy body. We debated how best to dispatch her, and I wavered in my convictions. We had only just discussed slaughtering and butchering our own farm animals that morning on the dog walk. That part of me dissolved into guilt and anger at my own clumsy ways. Killing a healthy adult chicken who's had a long life of grass and sunshine is far different from haphazardly wounding a baby who hasn't had a chance to see the world beyond her brooder box.

Ultimately, we decided to let Nature take over. "If she's got any fight in her, let's let her fight," I said. Aimee agreed, and I think she was relieved to know that neither of us then had to "do the deed," at least not that night.

We set her up in a cardboard box in the brooder box with her own heat lamp, a tiny lid of water, and a miniature pie pan of food (we had just made mince pies, oddly enough). I felt that it was important for her to hear her sisters nearby as a comfort, rather than passing away all alone, even if she was in the house near us. I fully expected to check in the morning and find a dead baby chick. It was also decided that a wounded baby in the house would only prevent us (and mostly me) from being able to sleep peacefully. As a result, I slept clean through the night and awoke to a sense of dread for the brooder box inspection. Much to my surprise (though you all know what happened), little Winona was awake, peeping, and moving around in her box. She was weak, and she kept falling over to the right, but something in that little animal had refused to give up.

I promptly moved her isolation ward into the house, ultimately setting her up in the bathroom (where crazy dogs could not get to her if we left the house). Over the course of the next full day and night, she recovered enough to be reintroduced to the flock. I distracted everyone by also giving them a clump of dirt and weeds to play with, a tactic I will most certainly use in the future.

And so, Winnie is once again a whole chicken, despite my efforts to behead her. She still isn't quite right. Her balance leaves a little to be desired, she's a bit slower than the pack (though she darts around the box full tilt every so often), and her left eye seems to only open halfway. We're hoping that her extreme youth will help. After all, babies are growing so fast that healing happens almost overnight with many injuries. In the end, Winona has endeared herself to us in ways I cannot explain. She was originally destined to move to our neighbor's house with three of her sisters (one Brahma and two Sussex), but she will now be a permanent part of our flock. I can't bear the thought of letting her go after all we've been through.

Despite my attempts to be neutral, to refuse to get attached to new babies who won't be staying, sometimes little critters have a way of willing me into emotion. All I can say to the other five is, good freaking luck with me around.

New Girls on the Block

2010-03-30T12:11:00.000-07:00

That's right! It's time for the return of Everett's hottest chicks. Peep shows cost five cents, cash only please.

Huddle!! Defying all responsibility of adulthood, we've added six new baby chicks to our little urban farm. Three or four of them will be going to the neighbor across the street (who I wouldn't trust alone with grass, let alone a brood of babies...), and the rest will become part of our established flock. These little lovelies came from the amazing Monroe Feed & Seed, who currently have about 40 troughs filled with just about every breed of chicken imaginable. We picked out three Speckled Sussex, two Brahmas, and one Blue Wyandotte.

Brahmas are dual purpose birds from India. Their tails are short, they're big when fully grown (like 10 pounds for hens), and they have feathered feet (see above). Too cute!! We'll be making a lot of "shave those legs" jokes as they grow up.

Blue Wyandottes have a lovely greyish-blue feathering when they grow up. This little girl (in the front) has already been through her own set of adventures, which I'll tell you about in a day or two. She's named Winona, or Winnie for short. She was originally destined to become one of the neighbor's chickens, but only time will tell. We've both fallen really hard for this little girl.

The Sussex girls are big and sassy. Two of them are obviously from the same clutch, and the third looks a little different in her coloring. Sussex were the original bird of choice in England for years, both for eggs and meat. They're friendly and cold hardy, and they lay very nice brown eggs. Next to this one you can see a Brahma on the left and Winnie on the right.

The chicks range in age from five days old (Brahmas) to about two weeks old (Sussex). Some are starting to feather out already. Brooding chicks is a bit of work, though, so I'm glad we've done this before. I'll go into a little more detail over the coming weeks about how we raise our chicks and some of the trials and errors of being a chicken mama. In the meantime, does anyone have suggestions for names? Our only rule is that they be named after "Hot Chicks," so movie actors are generally the easiest. Bear in mind, our current flock has the following names, so repeats are not allowed.

Portia (di Rossi)
Ellen (DeGeneres)
Ursula (Andress)
Raquel (Welch)
Ingrid (Bergman)

...and, though departed to the great coop in the sky...

Norma Jean (Marilyn Monroe)

Animal (chicken), Vegetable (Apple), Miracle (Birthdays)

2010-03-24T14:34:00.000-07:00

I've been reading a lot over the last few weeks, what with school slowing down for finals and spring break. It's nice not to feel bound by course requirements, even if it won't last. Math 141, Chemistry 121, and Political Science 101 begin next Monday. I'm cramming in the garden books while I still have free time. Here's a list of what's captivated my attention so thoroughly this spring.

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is an endearing journey through a family's year of local eating. I've found myself laughing along many times. This book (and its website) contain a number of tasty-looking recipes for eating local produce and meats that are in season. I doubt I'll get Aimee to choke down anything with eggplant in it, but I'm always eager to try new dinner menus.

Okay, you knew sooner or later I'd have to admit being a Michael Pollan junkie. I originally got hooked by The Botany of Desire, which is a great read. The film version of it was on PBS not that long ago, and it was equally enthralling. What I enjoyed most about In Defense of Food was its semi-cynical manner of breaking down and discrediting every major diet fad America has known, including the one proposed by Michael Pollan himself.

I followed Jenna's blog for a few months before finally wrangling Made From Scratch from the clutches of the Everett Public Library, and it was worth the effort. Again, this was one of those books you chuckle along with as you read it on the bus or train, but I can't say she's got me convinced to playthe hammered dulcimer just yet. I will admit that her trials and errors with chickens alone made me feel like a truly accomplished urban farmer (seeing as we currently have an 83% survival rate amongst our hens).

All of this reading has got me (and, to some extent, us) thinking about eating more locally and more seasonally. The eggs from the backyard are great (our monthly tally is already over 100 for March), and I know we'll have plenty of produce from the garden in the front yard come July and August, but we'd like to go further. The Everett farmer's market doesn't start up until June this year, so these changes are going to require thinking outside the box.

Do any of you eat seasonally and locally? How about some advice for the novice!

Today is also my birthday. While their importance decreases over the years, birthdays should still be infused with a bit of fun. One present (though it wasn't intended as such) arrived on the porch while we were out walking the dogs this morning. Two of our older computers are being replaced with a new iMac. This thing is so huge I think we'll need to build a new desk for it. I can't wait to get home and play with it!! Additionally, the much anticipated weekend of Seattle Tilth classes is almost upon us. I've signed up for two classes: Goats 101 on Saturday, and Muchroom Cultivation on Sunday. What kind of wine goes best with chevre and porcini mushrooms?

What's Growing in Your Garden?

2010-03-16T16:53:00.000-07:00

About mid-March in the Pacific Northwest, trees start budding, cherry blossoms snow in a light wind, bulbs emerge and bloom, and the first tender spring crops can be sown in the soil (especially if you garden in raised beds like we do). I like the concept of gardening year round, but my follow-through is usually a bit weak. I did, however, neglect to pull all the onions last year, so we'll have some nice, big onion bulbs at the end of the summer. We've also used our cold frame to nurse along some hardy herbs and grasses, and it is now planted with the first few seedlings for salads and stir-fry dinners. (I'd tell you what I planted in that bed, but I didn't mark anything. I'm hoping it'll all be a great surprise!) If we replace the window in the mud room this year, I can build a second cold frame. Here's to hoping!

If you were closer, you could see the first leaves of beets, mesclun, lettuce, and who-knows-what-else in that cold frame. It's probably one of the best and easiest projects we've undertaken so far. I'm really hoping to get a lot of use out of that thing.

It's also a good time to head out and pick up berry plants. This is the time to transplant all of them, since the likelihood of a hard frost is behind us. Aimee and I picked out some strawberries and blueberries this morning, and I transplanted them this afternoon (in the rain and wind, because I'm hard core).

There are five blueberry bushes in this bed, three varieties. Raised beds give you a number of benefits. They warm up quickly in the spring, they provide great drainage, no intense digging is required at the start of each planting year, and you can space plants closer together since the roots don't get stepped on. Blueberries need to be as much as five feet apart in standard planting rows or hedges. Here, each plant has about 18 to 24 inches between it and its neighbors.

Strawberries love the weather we get. They come in two main types; ever-bearing and June-bearing. We bought four of each. Ever-bearing strawberries produce a slower crop of berries from June until the first frosts. June-bearing.... well, you can guess. The advantage of getting your whole crop over a three week span is for freezing and making batches of jam. Or, if you're like us, you'll eat berries from sunrise to sunset through the whole summer and then pine for them for the rest of the year.

We're trying a new method for growing potatoes this year. I read somewhere that you can grow taters in a burlap sack. Start by filling the sack one quarter full with compost. Plant one or two tubers in each sack (we went with two), then roll the sack down (like the ones pictured here). As the plants grow, roll up the edges of the burlap and fill in more compost. At the end of the growing season, tip the bags over and have a harvest party. We're growing red, blue, and fingerling potatoes. I'll let you know how this method works out in a few months.

The garden shed is also currently home to a large group of seedlings. We've started brussels sprouts, cabbages, lettuce, mesclun, endive, bok choi, borage, and oregano, and the rest of the seeds are jumping at the pots as the days warm up. I can't wait to get more going.

Hard Work in the Fall, Payoff in Spring

2010-03-15T08:40:00.000-07:00

The snowdrops were the first to come up, followed shortly by crocuses.

The tiny, bunched tulips out front were the next to bloom.

A row of brilliant hyacinths now guides you toward the gate to the backyard. The yellow tulips intermingled within are pushing hard to join in.

But by far, these are Aimee's favorites. They're Shakespeare tulips, and we've been staring at the closed flowers for a week. It was well worth the wait. When planning for the garden each year, I draw out elaborate designs for how to fit the maximum number of tomatoes and peas into our raised beds, but Aimee always reminds me that we need some flowers for color. It was her determination (and a little grunt labor from me, too) that got over 250 bulbs planted at the end of last year, and we are now reveling in the rewards. Soon there will be whole patches of daffodils and alliums bursting forth from the soil, and we'll begin making plans for the next spring; bigger, brighter, and better.

Egg Report Cards

2010-03-10T10:51:00.000-08:00

When you have five chickens in your backyard, especially if it's your first foray into the world of urban farming, expectations are a dangerous thing. When will my chickens start laying eggs? How big will they be? Will the shells be soft or hard? And, the biggest question on any urban farmer's mind, just how many eggs will I collect from these hens? After spending the last eight months with our happy girls, we've learned a lot about all of these questions (and more we thought we would never ask). And so, after a little over two months of egg production, the first report cards are out.

Raquel- Being one of the first chickens to lay lovely little brown eggs around the holiday season, Raquel has won us over with her consistency. Her eggs have some of the darkest, orange yolks I've ever eaten. Raquel produces approximately six eggs every week. A+

Ingrid- Small but mighty, Ingrid lays eggs that display the largest ratio of egg size to body weight I've heard of. We collect about four eggs per week from her. What she lacks in production she makes up for in supervising everyone else. That clucking and squawking sound coming from the coop? It's not the chicken laying an egg, it's Ingrid observing the act. A-

Ellen- We started collecting eggs from Ellen in January, and we've been quite impressed with how many of these strikingly beautiful eggs she puts out. We get about six eggs every week from Ellen, and their shells are slightly off-white and creamy. Yesterday she spent over an hour in the nest box laying the perfect egg. It was well worth the wait. A

Portia- Most improved chicken award!! Yes, she's earned it. The last to lay, Portia has increased her production from two eggs per week to nearly five. B+

Ursula- What can we say about Urs but DAMN! She may have the smallest comb and wattles, but she routinely plops out double yokers. Don't believe me? Here's the evidence, folks. Every two weeks, rain or shine, we find one of these in the nest box.

Seriously, this thing didn't even fit in the egg carton. I could barely close the lid. I was forced to stare at it for three days before I could crack it open (alas, early morning shifts don't lend to hot breakfasts).

Yummerific!! While we love the eggs from all of our girls, the best yolks are from the Dominiques. Ursula, you've earned your A+. Good work!!

In total, we collected 90 eggs in the month of February. So far this month we're up to about 37 eggs. What's a farmer to do with all these yummy treats? Well, we're currently selling some and bartering with the rest. Overall, we endeavor to keep most of what we grow and produce in our own neighborhood. That's the essence of eating local, and a 100 foot diet is even better than a 100 mile diet if you ask me. Are you in the 'hood? Stop by some time to visit the girls and nab some fresh goodies. This is local farming at its best.

Dances With Wolves... er... Mutts, Actually

2010-03-03T09:14:00.000-08:00

I've apparently neglected to post much about the canines on our little urban farm, so today we'll catch up with the Usual Suspects.

Jodie was the first member of our pack. She's a Korean Jindo and possibly has a bit of Whippet mixed in there somewhere. She will be seven this year, but that hasn't slowed her down one bit. In fact, she's probably in her prime. Jodie's favorite words are:

Hungry
Car
Park
Hike

Did you mention hiking?? One of our favorite activities as a family is hiking on the many beautiful trails here in the Pacific Northwest. No matter where you are around here, you're never more than an hour from a fantastic hike. Jodie was the first to get a backpack, and she knows when it comes out that an epic adventure is afoot! Dogs can carry about 20% of their body weight in a backpack, depending on their age and physical ability. Jodie weighs 35 pounds, so she carries poo bags, a few dog biscuits, and sometimes her own water supply.

Caleb enjoys getting outside no matter what we do. He has a backpack, too, but he has a hard time figuring out that wearing it prevents him from skinnying through tight spaces, so he gets stuck quite a bit. He's wearing his in this picture, but it's hard to see anything but his tongue. Caleb is two going on three this year. He's as close to pure-bred black lab as you can get without having papers, and he frequently has to put up with him calling him a pretty girl. He's gorgeous.

Caleb's favorite words are:

Hungry
Pretty girl
Jodie

Aengus likes a good breath of fresh air, too. He's a cross between a gorilla and a woolly mammoth. This picture was from his first hike last year. He had a great time, but then he always has a great time. As they say, ignorance is bliss. Aengie is about as blissful as they come. We think he may actually be Black Lab mixed with Irish Setter. Either way, he's enormous. At 18 months, he now weighs 80 pounds, and he's a skinny little beast.

Spring is in the air around here, and we're already planning the first dog hike of the year. It's always a gamble to head up into the mountains this early, and we may run into snow, but that can be fun in its own way. Sometimes the best part about living in the city is getting away from it all for one day. It's time to taste freedom.

The Deadly Chicken Assassination Squad

2010-02-19T08:49:00.000-08:00

Hello to all my blog fans! This is Ingrid, leader of the Deadly Chicken Assassination Squad, Everett Chapter. I rarely take time out of my busy schedule to keep in touch with the web community at large, but I think it's important to spread the good word about all that we do here on our urban farm. My sisters and I fight the good fight daily, swallowing evil worms, weeding and scratching out our meager existence in the home turf, and protecting the neighborhood from the infiltration of over-urbanization.

For those of you who may be new to our exploits, let me start by saying that chickens are deadly. You heard me. We kick feather. And the smaller you are, the badder you can be. I may be a banty compared to my coop-mates, but that ain't stoppin' me. I'd like to take this moment to give a shout out to my roller derby sisters, CarnEvil, part of the Jet City Roller Girls. Lerin, new recruit and still fresh meat out there on the flat track, gave everything in her last bout, February 13th. This is proof positive, folks. Small = fiesty. Deal with it.

Think you've got what it takes to be the leader of the pack? It takes guts to be the first to explore new patches of dirt for bugs and tasty veggies. You've gotta be bold to jump in the compost bin while the humans are still turning it over with their mighty blades of bone-crushing steel! But the rewards are sweet, chicks. If I were allowed to have skates, I'd be lead jammer every eggin' time, no doubt.

The next roller derby bout is March 13th. It's marked on my calendar, and you can bet I'll be there to cheer on those bad-ass girls in fishnets. Join me. Be part of the movement. Vive le minuscule!!

Tag!

2010-02-11T08:31:00.000-08:00

In an effort to take part in blog community activities (and because I'm enjoying a quiet moment in the office), I'm happy to play a game of tag with Small Farm Girl. If I tag you, there's no need to feel obligated to join in, but it's fun to play!

The rules are:

Answer the questions with one word, then pass it along to 5 other bloggers.

Have fun!

Your Cell Phone?   old

Your Hair?   longer

Your Mother? odd

Your Father?   retiring

Your Favorite Food?   chocolate

Your Dream Last Night?   algebra

Your Favorite Drink?   tea

Your Dream/Goal?   farming

What Room Are You In?   office

Your Hobby?   guitars

Your Fear?   needles

Where Do You See Yourself In Six Years?   better

Where Were You Last Night?   school

Something That You Aren't?   finished

Muffins?   blueberry

Wish List Item?   goats

Where Did You Grow Up?   Indiana

Last Thing You Did?   reroutes

What Are You Wearing?   uniform

Your TV?   lonely

Your Pets?   caged

Friends?   tons

Your Life?   improving

Your Mood?   exhausted

Missing Someone?   constantly

Vehicle?   TDI

Something You Aren't Wearing?   hat

Your Favorite Store?   REI

Your Favorite Color?   blue

When Was The Last Time You Laughed?   742AM

Last Time You Cried?   awhile

Your Best Friend?   Rob

One Place You Go To Over And Over Again?   Coop

Facebook?   hardly

Twitter?   unlikely

Favorite Place To Eat?   tolmie

Okay, enough about me. Now I'm suppose to give this to 5 different blogs.

Straight As The Crow Flies
Come By Chance
Whispering Acres
The Itty Bitty Farm in the City
Granny's Best

These are only a handful of the blogs I follow regularly, and they're each a great read. Tag! You're it!!

Soft-Shelled Eggs and Raised Beds

2010-02-09T07:43:00.000-08:00

While it may be early February, every now and then we get a nice day to spend outside. Yesterday and today are a couple of those marvelous days. The girls, pictured above, nearly trampled me to get out into the yard. They've done a good job weeding, eating bugs, scratching, aerating the soil, and removing the excess worms who wander to the surface after a hard rain. They'll be hard at work again today, so, while they scratch and peck, let's catch up on what's happened over the last couple of weeks.

Ingrid is now laying beautiful, white shelled eggs on a regular basis. We're collecting about 18 eggs per week from three hens, two browns to every one white. Her eggs are very normal now, but we took a few photos of the last soft-shelled egg, which also delighted (and creeped out) the neighbors. There's nothing like holding one of these in your hand. It's such an odd sensation. To better describe just what a soft-shelled egg is like, the following photos should provide some insight. This one is a day old, which accounts for its saggy nature. All eggs loose moisture through the shell over time, but a soft-shelled egg is far more susceptible.

Yep, I really did pick it up by pinching the shell. Ew. We later broke this one open and fed it to the dogs. I was a little too yucked out by it to eat it myself, and Aimee doesn't eat eggs. The shell was so thin and soft that it felt like a flower petal. I was amazed that something so delicate could hold all that yolk and white within.

In other egg news, we believe that either Ellen or Portia has begun to lay. We collected three eggs last week, and two of them were white. Though the pictures cannot do it justice, this new egg was very different than what Ingrid gives us. Its shell was perfectly egg-shaped, hard, and clean, and the color was golden.

The one in the middle came from Ellen or Portia, whose names can be meshed into "Portien," which sounds like portion. This one was laid Friday, February 5th, and we haven't seen a second one yet. For all the horrible things we've said over the past few months about our Hamburgs, at least we can now say they are laying. They still have a long way to go to redeem themselves.

* Side note: Both Ellen and Portia now have their wings clipped. I'll post a little more about this later, but for now, everyone is grounded, and I am getting much less exercise.

Now that February is in full swing, our One Small Change for the month is also well on its way. If you didn't see our change for January, you can view that post here. The compost is coming along nicely, and I'll be turning it again later today. It should be ready for the garden in about three to four weeks.

The next change we are taking on is to increase the amount of food we produce here on our own tiny plot of land. We want to be more self-sufficient. We want to eat salads from the front yard. We want to make potato salad from our own potatoes and onions. Ultimately, I think we can provide about 10 - 25% of our own food for an entire year, which isn't bad for a city dwelling couple. In that last picture you can see me assembling another raised bed. Aimee and I finished two beds yesterday, bringing our total to seven. The others are behind me, and one includes a cold frame made from an old window from the house. I'll be planting a very early crop of lettuce, salad onions, and snap peas in there later today. Cold frames give little plants a boost of warmth, which allows you to plant things outside as much as four weeks early. This year we'll be growing things early and late in that bed, which could extend our growing season by two to three months. The fescue and herbs I started last year have been hunkered down in the cold frame since early January, and they are ready to be transplanted.

Sunday, Aimee and I played hookie from work and went to the Northwest Flower and Garden Show. We saw some great exhibition gardens, oohed and ahhed at the goats in the Seattle Tilth exhibit, and marveled at all the people interested in bringing chickens into their lives. Three of the exhibit gardens had chickens in them. While many of these gardens focus on contemporary design or urban loft style, some of them are more geared towards urban sustainability and recycling. There were water gardens, rooftop gardens, living walls, container veggies, and more. This year seemed very much aimed at what a small plot can produce, which seems appropriate during bad economic times. And, following this trend, our neighbor across the street now wants his own chickens. I'll keep you posted on this development.

The Payoff of an Adventurous Life

2010-01-27T15:43:00.000-08:00

Herding chickens is a little like herding cats.... Cats that can f*$#ing fly.

Yep. That's Portia. Again.

Portia surveys the view from the garage roof.

"Where is everyone else?" Portia asks. It sounds distinctly like,

"Buck-caw?"

"Should I fly to the safety of the ground where my adoring human will save me from the dangers of the wild world and deposit me lovingly into my coop (where I belong with the rest of my comrades)?"

"Nah. Let's explore the roof of the house! My human will never reach me with her garden hoe now!"

A bit of perspective. The neighbors thought this was hilarious. They didn't have to figure out how to get a #$%^&ing chicken off the roof of a two story house. And, for the sake of realism, don't forget to throw in a "buck-buck-buck-buckck-CAW!!!" every thirty seconds for good measure.

"Perhaps I'll see what Mount Baker looks like at sunset..."

Believe it or not, she really did climb to the apex of the roof, approximately forty feet off the ground. I yelled. I coaxed. I rattled a container of scratch. I begged. I pleaded. I shook my hoe. I tossed two buckets of water (nearly on myself). Finally, I realized that Portia was avoiding me. When I walked away, she flew down, then promptly got cornered inside the garden shed. My master plan worked.

The moral of this story is that a good chicken is a chicken with clipped wings. We will be investigating the act of wing clipping over the course of the next week. Enough is enough.

The title of this post was, however, about payoff. I present exhibit 26F:

Yes, that's right. Ingrid finally laid that egg. Three in one day! This is a record. Our flock is now in 60% compliance. Perhaps a little wing snip will persuade Ellen and Portia to step up.

Black Gold

2010-01-26T08:01:00.000-08:00

The weather was cooperative enough yesterday that I was able to get out and toss some compost. This is the three bin composter we built last summer, and it's finally being put to some good use. The bin on the far left is a storage area for the last of the compost we ordered from Cedar Grove last year, for which Aimee has still not forgiven me. I bought about ten yards. Do you have any idea how many wheelbarrow loads that is? Anyway, the front yard got completely re-landscaped with the bulk of that, and a little was left over for future projects. I'll be building a few more raised beds this spring, so it'll get put to good use soon. The remaining scraps, trimmings, weeds, and branches in the fall were thrown carelessly into the bin on the right, where they proceeded to fester during my period of apathy. Last week we added chicken poo and bedding, tossed everything into the center bin, and threw a blue camping tarp over the top. It worked. Yesterday afternoon, I took my trusty garden fork out of the shed (which is the building directly behind the compost bins) and turned that pile of gold over once more. The trick to hot composting is getting the heat up and turning it weekly. I'm usually lazy about this process, but joining others in the One Small Change campaign changed my attitude. Plus, we have so much chicken poo to deal with, there's no other way to get rid of it all.

There it is, steamy and beautiful. My shoulders are sore this morning, but it feels good to know that I can, indeed, have some success at composting.

What's the difference between cold and hot composting? In cold composting, the pile of material is left to decay on its own, and you don't turn it. Let nature do her thing. The downside is that cold composting can take all year. Don't expect to use that pile in your garden until the following spring. If you're lazy (like I am), then this method might work well for you. Hot composting, on the other hand, likes attention. It can be turned over weekly or every few days. Weekly turning gives you the final result in one to three months, while turning every few days can give you a finished product in as little as four weeks flat. It's called hot composting because the internal temperature of your pile can reach 110 to 160 degrees. This high heat kills many weeds and weed seeds, making your pile safer to distribute onto young plants and seedlings in your garden. Would you like to learn more about composting methods? If you live in the Puget Sound region, the Seattle Tilth society provides classes throughout the year on this topic, as well as a whole host of other cool things. You can view their list of upcoming classes here.

The girls helped me get a little work done yesterday. You can see the lovely weeding job they did here behind the house. Their technique is extremely effective. They scratch the soil until it loosens up, then peck and nibble at green things and bugs they find. Sorry, worms. I want you in my garden, but the chickens have other plans for you. After watching this hard work for a few minutes, I decided to carry on with my idea to employ the hens where their work will be most effective in our long term landscaping goals. The side of the backyard next to the garage was planted by previous owners. They installed paving stones and raised beds, and it appears that they planted spinach and potatoes. As a matter of fact, we ate some of those taters our very first summer here. While I understand the desire to harness the potential of any yard, the spot we're talking about receives minimal sunlight, and it's trapped between a building and a fence. Ultimately, we'd like to pave the whole thing in with paving stones, throw in a gate on each side, and use the space to store the garbage and recycling bins.

I began a simple shelter for the girls last night as the sun was setting. It's made entirely from leftover scraps of wood and metal, so it cost nothing. Yay, recycling! Here it is without the roof. Today I'll be making a secondary nest box, again using scraps, that the girls can deposit eggs in if they feel the need. I'll also fence in this patch of weeds to keep the chickens in and focused on their new job.

The branch on the front of their home-away-from-coop should be a nice roosting pole, and they'll be sheltered from sun and rain, should the weather change abruptly.

Chicken tractor be damned! With uneven ground and restricted clearances all over our front and back yards, this shelter was the best solution I could come up with to keep the girls safe and happy when outside of their main coop. We'll find out today if it works.

The First Hint of Spring

2010-01-20T16:30:00.000-08:00

It's not spring just yet, but it felt so warm and wonderful on Monday that we went out and enjoyed the sunshine. The first snowdrop of the season was waiting for us out front. We weeded and trimmed, the compost got turned, and the chicken coop got a thorough cleaning. It's been a terribly soggy winter so far, and the mud and muck in the backyard is quite discouraging. A little sunshine goes a long way this time of the year.

The girls got some well-deserved sunshine, and you can see Raquel (my, how she's grown!) happily scratching and nesting in the dirt beside the garage. We want to clear this area out anyway, so we've enlisted the help of the chickens in our task. They're terribly driven. I sat down for a while and watched Raquel, Portia, and Ellen basking in this little corner of the yard. They pecked, they scratched, and they stretched their wings out to catch a few extra rays of sunshine.

Everyone's combs are developing nicely, and if you look closely at Portia's (she's the little head on the right), you can see that she's got a little unicorn in her genetics. Yes, her comb has a definite peak. Neither of these two are laying yet, and they've been reminded of their schedule, so we're hopeful they'll get on board soon. You can't survive in this farm by looks alone, even with gorgeous wings like that.

On my way to take a few pictures of the compost bins, I startled Ingrid. She was keeping watch from a high perch, then fled the scene a little too quickly. The front of the compost bins is made of lengths of cedar fence boards, one of which was resting on the top of the one Ingrid had inhabited. Apparently she's not familiar with the "see-saw" principle of physics.

The compost, which did not get its picture into this post, is doing very well with the recent contributions from the girls. We may have enough to donate to the neighborhood veggie patch a couple of houses down. In fact, I'm afraid we may have more than our bins can handle. I feel positive about our decision to cancel the yard waste pick-up, but this whole composting thing is going to be a lot of extra work.

In egg news, Ursula and Raquel are both laying up a storm! Today I collected two eggs from one nest box. Both look perfect, and both landed in the right place. Way to go, girls!!

The Egg and I

2010-01-15T08:02:00.000-08:00

Whilst walking the dogs this morning (in the dark, in the rain), we discussed the timeline for the remaining chickens on our City Chicken Farm to begin spittin' out the goods. I had originally calculated next Monday, January 18th, as their "due date," with the implied understanding that everyone would endeavor to be on schedule. Chickens, as some of you may already know, begin laying eggs at 22 to 25 weeks of age. This number varies from one breed to another, and each individual bird has its own timeline, as well. Lots of people have asked about when the girls would begin laying, especially now that Ursula (yes, it has been confirmed that all 14 of the most recent eggs collected are the progeny of our dear Urs) has set the tone. The egg I collected from her yesterday in the early afternoon was still warm. The other four have been cackling, eating everything in sight, and getting extremely bossy. I'm assuming they've read their calendar, and they know their time is coming. So, just in case any of you ladies are reading this (Ingrid, this means you), I have one clear message for you. .... ahem.....

EGGS OR GRAVY, DAMMIT. IT'S YOUR CHOICE.

Thank you.

After returning from our morning constitutional with the pups, Aimee peeked into the coop, whereupon she discovered this...

Aimee also found a second egg (actually, it was most likely the first) which was broken and in a sad state. Both had extremely soft shells. It's difficult to convey with a digital camera what these eggshells feel like, but if you've ever touched reptile eggs, these are very similar.

The shell is pliable and soft, slightly leathery to the touch. They are clearly delicate, and the one above was rolled into my hand in an effort to keep it intact. Here you can see it beside Ursula's egg from yesterday. They're similar in size, but the color and pallor are nothing alike. Raquel's egg (for it is, indeed, hers) is nearly translucent. You can see the yolk glowing inside. Fascinating. Here's what we think happened. Due to the location of both eggs, we hypothesize that the first egg was actually dropped from the roosting perch. It landed in a splat along with everything else that drops from that location nightly. Have I mentioned birds are messy? The second egg was in the same location (not in one of the nest boxes), and both were being intensely watched over by the culprit herself. She wandered off to eat when I cleaned everything up.

We have two laying chickens! Three to go.

In other news, the farm here at work is coming along nicely. The guard goose is doing a good job keeping the sheep in line, the pigs are finally minding their own business and not harassing the horses, and the solitary cow is making good ground with her bale of hay. We're all looking forward to the spring tilling and planting.

If you're ever in my office, please feel free to rake the sand or feed the animals. Everyone is welcome on this farm.

A Late New Year's Entry

2010-01-10T11:48:00.000-08:00

Our New Year was one of mixed feelings, so I didn't write a post about plans or resolutions. Resolutions aren't my thing anyway. I like to make improvements as they come to mind, one day or week at a time, irrespective of the date. I read a number of blogs, however (and you can check out all the ones I follow regularly by clicking on the links on the left of this page), and I stumbled across a link to One Small Change. I liked what I saw, and I hope you'll read up on the concept, too. The idea is that changing one small thing in your way of living can have a tremendous impact on the environment around us all.

For those of you who don't know me in real life, I'll share a few details of my connections. I work full-time for a very large part of King County, which is already a large government organization. King County is one of Washington State's largest (and best) employers, and Metro, the county bus system, makes up a big component of the whole. I started out driving a city bus nine years ago. My experiences were good, bad, and everything in between. A little over two years ago I moved into Supervision, and I couldn't be happier (unless a farm was involved). I currently teach operators how to drive buses, I help them qualify on routes, and I answer countless questions. Metro currently employs around 4000 people, and I come into contact with a very large number of those people on a regular basis. Apart from those things which I do at work that fall into the category, "My Job," I also take pride in setting good examples for others to follow. Below is an excerpt from work yesterday.

Four supervisors, including myself, were out in a van reviewing routes for one of the classes we teach. We stopped at the nearby 24 hour Starbucks and went inside for a break. Each of the other three members of the group purchased a beverage, and two purchased food. Names have been changed, but not because anything bad happened.

Ryan- You're not getting a drink?
Me- No, I ditched coffee a couple of years ago. (Casually sips tea made at home in recycled mug.)
Sue- I'm so hungry (wolfs down egg salad sandwich), and I didn't bring anything with me today.
Me- Yeah, I always pack something. I can't go without food.
Sue- I should do that (looks ill after eating too quickly), but I'm bad at planning.
Me- I use a computer program that helps me plan out all my meals, and it's easy to stick to.
Ryan- Is this the thing that gives you a GPA on the meals? You mentioned it before.
Me- Yep. I love it. I get a better variety of things to eat, and I don't make as many irrational decisions about food while I'm out. I feel so much better having a meal plan.

I'm not against Starbucks, I just don't want to spend my money on something like that when I can plan ahead. I like feeling good. "Sue" later asked me for a link to the program so that she could possibly try it out.

Lots of people at work ask me about the food I snack on, the chickens in our backyard, my obsessive behavior of leaving the lights off in my office, etc, and it gives me a chance to talk to them about new ideas which might make positive changes in their lives and in our shared environment. I feel like that influence is important.

In response to the One Small Change idea, I'd like to mention a change we've already made for this month and the remainder of 2010. We decided to change before I even read about the challenge, but I think this fits nicely with the theme. The City of Everett provides garbage, recycling (bottles, cans, paper, cardboard, and newspaper), and yard waste. We started yard waste in 2008 and put that bin out in the alley every week. It began as a way to get rid of grass clippings and the sod we were tearing out of the front yard to make way for landscaping and raised beds. Last year, 2009, we constructed a three bin composter in the back yard. It's time to put that composter to work! The compost from the end of the year has already been turned over into the center bed, and a new bed has begun (thank you chicken poo!). I've never done hot composting, primarily because I'm lazy, and I know it'll decompose if you leave it to sit long enough, but this year will be different. Everything we trim, cut, mow, and prune will be composted on site, bringing us just one step closer to sustainability. Yard waste has already been canceled. There's no going back now.

One last thing. Yard waste in the city is a fantastic resource. There are rules about what you can and cannot put in the bins, and everything they collect goes to a city composting facility. If you live in an area which provides this service and you do not have the space or dedication to compost, call your local garbage and recycling company and ask them about yard waste.

When asked about composting, Jodie answered, "It's better than ending up on the grill."

Holiday Presents That Last

2010-01-06T15:52:00.000-08:00

The first issue of Hobby Farms has arrived, and I was downright giddy last night as I poured over the glossy photos and enticing titles of articles on each page. This makes me feel a little more normal, a little more connected to the other "Hobby Farmers" out there, and one step closer to being on that real farm someday. Issues arrive every other month, so I have lots of time to read, explore, and absorb until the next copy arrives.

We've also been inundated with all the seed and greenhouse catalogs that we associate with the dead, grey role of winter which January plays, and I'm really looking forward to sitting down with them next weekend. There's something entirely therapeutic about descriptions of bountiful snap pea harvests, prolific tomato plants, and corn that you can hear growing in the night. I may not order much, but I'll read it all.

On the chicken front, we are all recovering from the loss of Norma Jean. It's strange to see only five chickens huddling around the morning treat bowl of lettuce, cucumber ends, bell pepper seeds, and plain yogurt, but we're happy that our remaining flock is healthy and well-adjusted. It turns out that gluttony was the killer of our little bird. She ate too many meal worms the day before she got sick, and the overdose of protein was lethal. Just when you think you've got nature figured out...

Yesterday we collected the sixth egg. Each one is a little bigger than the previous one, and now they are being laid IN the nest boxes. Hooray! While we originally thought it was Raquel doing all the hard work, Ursula was busted nesting in the box twice, and each time a small, perfect egg was found immediately afterward. She spends her sweet time in there, too. I feel like I should give her a magazine or something.

And, last but somewhere firmly in the middle of the mix of life as we know it, school started for me on Monday night. I'm enrolled in English 101 and Math 099, and my night classes have not yet conflicted with work and vice versa. This is the first quarter of many to come, and I'm hopeful that everything will go well. It feels fun to go to college, especially looking around the classroom at the teenagers who are scared out of their wits at the thought of dividing fractions. I don't expect big challenges for a while yet, and much of the first few quarters of class will be catching up from 15 years of not being in school, but it still feels fun.

Goodbye, Norma Jean

2009-12-31T08:46:00.000-08:00

Last night was very sad. We rushed home only to find that Norma Jean had passed away sometime during the day. I feared that very result, but the reality was no easier to deal with than the thoughts I'd been plagued with all day.

First, we felt guilty for not having done more. I should have called in sick to work. I should have boxed her up and taken her with me. I should have done something.

Then we felt hopeless. What went wrong? Why was she sick? What happened to that healthy girl?

And, of course, all of this brought about doubt. What are we doing trying to raise chickens? If the death of one animal is this painful, how will we manage having a farm full of animals? When it comes time to slaughter our own for meat, will we be capable?

Today is New Year's Eve. 2009 is ending, and another year beckons. I can't say that I'm in the mood for celebrating or making resolutions, but one thing is clear. Norma Jean will be greatly missed.

Norma Jean was hatched on Monday, August 3rd, 2009. She arrived a few days later, boxed with her five sisters, ready to begin a happy life as a city chicken. She grew faster than her fellow Golden Campine sister, Ingrid, being the first of all six of the girls to develop a beautiful single comb. Her tail was the tallest, her strut the most pronounced. She frequently wandered far afield, searching out new grass to eat and new dirt to scratch. Like her namesake, she was undeniably beautiful and charismatic, and she died far too young. Our urban farm will not be the same without her.

Amidst Much Celebration, Tragedy Lurks

2009-12-30T16:41:00.000-08:00

We have collected three eggs so far, and Raquel shows no sign of slowing down just yet. Oddly enough, another chicken has drawn our attention for the day. Poor Norma Jean is in distress. We think she may be egg-bound.

For those of you unfamiliar with this terminology, allow me to explain. Chickens have one exit in their bodies. Don't spend too much time dwelling on this subject, just move forward with me. When girl chickens reach maturity and begin to lay, they are called pullets. Our girls are right about that age, which is evident with our sudden infatuation with egg collection. Pullets become hens at some mysterious date in the future. We'll wait until that time to go into more detail.

An egg-bound chicken is one which is trying to lay an egg, but the egg gets stuck in their "vent," that one, cursed exit. If you've ever raised animals, you'll know that a blockage in exits is typically lethal, especially when the animal is small or young. Norma Jean is both. I suppose she's grown to a decent size, but I still think of her as small. Most chickens who suffer from a stuck egg are lacking in calcium, which has to be given to all adult chickens as a supplement. Calcium is vital in forming the egg shell, but it's also necessary to keep their muscles strong enough to push that darned thing out! Remember the milk does a body good advertisements? They were all about strong bones and healthy muscles. Well, chickens are not so different from us in that respect.

You may suddenly be asking yourself, "Is that crazy urban farmer not feeding her chickens the right thing??" I'd like to hope that our chicken feed is adequate for our growing flock, but I'm always open to suggestions for improving their diet. Ready for a little more chicken education? There are roughly three kinds of chicken feed for your average egg-producing type of chicken. When you get teeny, tiny baby chicks, you start them out on "starter feed," which is specifically designed to help them grow big and healthy for the first four to five weeks of life. Next, they move on to "developer feed," which gives them everything they need until they begin laying eggs. Our girls are still eating developer feed. Once chickens begin to lay eggs, they graduate to "layer feed," which has additional calcium and a few other things adult chickens need. Too much calcium in younger birds can be harmful to their growth.

Back to Norma Jean. While I find it hard to believe that she is lacking in calcium, especially since she has yet to lay her first egg, I'm more than willing to supplement her feed to correct the problem. But do we have the problem pegged? Or is there something else going on?

Just before we left for work today, we went out to the coop to check for eggs. It's an obsession. I found Norma Jean laying in the straw in the covered part of the enclosure. She looked very tired and lethargic. Last night she had been nesting on a little hollow in the pine shavings in the coop. Everyone else was on their roosting pole (finally!!). I suspected that an egg (one of Raquel's) was under her, and I was right. Aimee brought it in this morning. When I entered the coop, she didn't run away. She was easy to pick up. That's a huge sign of something wrong. These birds are friendly but flighty. They like a good chase before a cuddle. Norma Jean was slightly limp in my hands. She was covered in poo on her backside. We rushed her into the house for an impromptu sponge bath, and we did the best we could to clean her up. She hardly fought back and mostly resigned herself to the entire process. Aimee re-fluffed her with the hair dryer, then we took her back out to the coop.

Now I'm sitting at work, completely distracted and incapable of getting anything done. It's a good thing my job isn't too demanding right now. I feel awful for what our little girl is going through, and I want nothing more than to rush home and check on her.

As a side note, I'd like to thank everyone over at the BackYardChickens Forum for all their help and wisdom. It's an invaluable tool for chicken lovers.

As you read this, I hope you'll pause and think good thoughts for Norma Jean. She'll be the first thing we tend to once we're home at the end of the day.