Puppy Presents

All right, if you want to be sticklers, the dogs are not puppies.  One is 12 and the other five.  But my dogs have always been puppies.  And puppies need Christmas presents.

What a jim dandy time to make the sweet potato chews I've been meaning to get to for... hmmm... a long time.

The recipe warns not to get the slices any thinner than 1/4".  I actually measured.

Then crank up the over to an easy 250 F and leave them for 2.5-3 hours, turning once.

This was at the 1.25 hour point.  Shrinkage occurs as they dry.

I think I may need to play with width and length of baking time.  Some of mine are crisp, not chewy.  And I may go lengthwise next time as well.

But for now there are two sloppily wrapped sweet potato packages in the frig waiting for Christmas morning.

Shhh.  Don't tell the pups.

Recipe Addendum, Destruction and Stomach Rumblings

I must add a quick addendum to my previous post.  The soup recipe.  I'm so used to reading recipes and vegetarianizing them or veganizing them, I don't think about it.  I neglected to make a note of that in the post.   
My preference is to avoid cow's milk in the recipe; Rick and I prefer rice milk and that's what we always have on hand.  It does not add any additional flavoring and is ideal for baking and cooking, in my opinion at least.

The donkeys continue to eat their way through any wood structure on the premises.  And I am ready to throw up my hands.  I've added a new supplement (at a nice price I might add), chock full of lovely minerals and vitamins, thinking their diet might be deficient.  I added a new toy to deter boredom -- someone in one of my donkey groups suggested a traffic cone.

You can see everyone clamoring to have a fun-filled time of tossing it around.  Yup.
And I've upped their rations, slightly.
What else to do!!

If you recall, Rick just fixed the legs on the manger which the blankety blank devils had chewed to bits.  This is the result of their recent efforts.

One leg gone and another on the way.
They've also started in on the window frame of the chicken coop.

What to do, what to do, what to do...  I'm out of ideas.

Last story --
A few days ago Mr. Luigi gave me a scare.  At the final feed of the evening, I threw hay to the donks and continued with chicken lock-up.  On my way out of the donkey yard I just happened to glance over and see Luigi lying down next to the hay, munching.  It would have been cute, except that it's such abnormal behavior.  A couple of  hours later, Rick went out to check on him.  He reported back that Luigi was lying down in the barn.  "Oh crap" and I hurriedly got on my winter gear to check myself.  I am armed with (only) the basics to check for colic -- what is the color of their gums, listen for gut sounds and, of course, watch for rolling.  When I stormed out there, he was up, but had shavings all over his back, so clearly he had been down.  But no signs of distress, pink gums.  I leaned over to listen for tummy rumblings and then Rick leaned in too.  His shout of "I hear gurgles!" was music to my ears.  And the boy has been fine since.   

My Soap Box

Before I step up upon my soap box (yea, don't think I can't see you rolling your eyes), allow me to provide you a brief chuckle. 

The girls always split up at night to get ready for bed.  The new girls (who used to be "the little girls") and the old-timers have distinct preferences.

 I
Here you have three of the four new girls with their favorite sleeping location - atop the door separating the two bedrooms of the coop.  Cute little hen bottoms.

The rest of the girls prefer their old bedtime location - the shelf on top of the nesting boxes.  Now Goldie, on the top far right, likes to mix it up between hanging with the oldsters and staying with her buds in the new bedroom.  Because she is not able to fly to the top of the window in the new bedroom which is their transition to the door, we have to help her.  And she belly aches about it each and every night.

OK, now on to the soap box.

It pains me to hear of chicken keepers who feel compelled to keep lights on in the coop for long periods of time.  They do this to keep egg production up during the seasons of decreasing light.  Here's my thinking.  Our chickens have been bred to lay more eggs than their bodies are naturally meant to lay.  Why not allow them to take a rest during the winter. Is it not better to be kind and humane? 

My second serious problem is with chicken keepers who want to kill every predator to their flock.  Some have proudly displayed the dead body.  Again, why not secure your coop properly.  If you choose to free range, yes you are making a conscious decision to allow for the possibility of predator kills.  That is the choice Rick and I have made after much soul searching.  But to kill a racoon or possum or fox -- I cannot agree.

I became a vegetarian about 40 years ago when I began learning of the horrors of factory farming.  And the yoga I have practiced for over 20 years also espouses a vegetarian diet, following the precept of non-violence.  Since learning more of the atrocities involved in dairy farming, I have eliminated many of the dairy products I used to consume.

So, with your indulgence I'm going to offer vegetarian recipes from time to time.  They'll be tried and true from my recipe stash in my kitchen.  I hope you opt to try them to help save some lives.

Today's goodie is a tasty potato soup which I whipped up three days ago.
 

My apologies to the person or site from which I copied it.  I usually include that, but clearly neglected to on this one.

The soap box has been moved aside for the moment, so I wish you all Bon Appetit!

No Rest For the Wicked, Hey Wait a Minute

Last Monday the skies opened for the snow to tumble down and tumble down, and continue to tumble down.  In one day we went from true fall weather to a full 8" of snow.

That means chickens don't get as much exercise as they will not walk in the snow (although I've read other hens do).  But our girls will not!
And donks felt cooped in as well.

But with the pasture covered, and protected, by the snowfall, the gate was opened.  As far as the donkeys were concerned, it was a veritable miracle.

The little herd now wanders in the pasture, nibbling bits of weeds and bushes popping through.  Except for Sunday morning slop time.  Then there's no prying them away from the feed bowls.

The hooligans continued with their wood chewing since we last spoke.

No sooner did Rick patch the hole (low to the ground) than they started in again.  It got worse after this photo was taken.  The solution has been to secure fencing to the barn in areas they can access.

Our barn walls have become a nice patchwork quilt of patches.
See the fencing?
I'm assuming damage control will set in with the pasture open.  Wandering and nibbling will keep the hooligans occupied.  Or else!

With the advent of snow and falling temps, water must now be hauled from the house to the donks and hens.  Yuck.

Let's close with a cute snap of Luigi, mugging while the girls do not want to be distracted from the task at hand.

I'm Sorry, Buffy

It's been a week.  And not one I wish to repeat.

No sooner did I tell you about the damage the donkeys had worked so carefully crafted, than they decided they weren't done.  This is the door from the rear of the barn to the chicken coop.

Rick had built the door of plywood sides and a styrofoam core.

Yup, half of the wood gone with attempts at the styrofoam.  Once the mess was discovered, he stapled hardware cloth over the remaining door to keep them off of it. 

Have I had the warm and fuzzies toward the donkeys this week?  Take a guess.

The worst of the week's news is we had to euthanize Buffy.

 Clearly I did not choose a strong enough medication at the onset of symptoms and her condition deteriorated.  I can't tell you how guilty I feel about this.  I've done an abundance of research about poultry antibiotics and what I believe to have been her condition.  And attempts to find a poultry vet.  And attempts to find an injectable version of the antibiotic that's been recommended by other chicken owners -- with no success.  The powder yes but not the stronger injectable. 

I check the remaining girls every night, looking for clear eyes, listening for any sneezing. watching for head shaking.   If my diagnosis was correct, it was a bacterial infection which could have spread. 

Buffy was most likely 6 or 7 years old.  She was given to me three (?) years ago and was about three at the time.  She was never very dominant and recently found the new girls accepted her company easily because she wasn't a bully about treats.  The five of them would hang together. 

Her nickname was Boof and she'd come when called.  If she was the straggler coming back to the coop, when I'd start calling "Boooof" she'd respond with a quick paddle back to join the gang.

I am so sorry Boof.

Hooligans Strike Again

I have a million and one things to tell you but I'll confine my stories for fear of seeing some eye-rolling out there. 

First I'm announcing new little chicken names.

Meet Goldie.  Isn't she just the prettiest girl.

The name is self-explanatory.

Again, try as I might for a good photo of the other three, it just didn't work.

The two reds are Marigold and Helen Reddy -- Helen has been the most assertive of the new girls sticking up for herself with the older girls.  She's a bit larger than Marigold.

And Fluffie is the fourth.  Little tufts of feathers adorn her feet.  So cute. 

Without realizing it we have stopped calling the four, "the little girls" and refer to them as "the new girls".  They're integrating well, except for treat time.  That is still an issue; they let the older girls dominate and in the afternoons, after free-range time I segregate them to allow for treats.

And the new girls have started laying, or at least a couple have.  Blue-green eggs.

And then there are the donkeys.  Oh my.

I've just about had my fill of those four and would gladly allow them to relocate.  Yes, it's a temporary mood, but right now they can do no right.

A couple of weekends ago we went on an annual long weekend to Camp Michigania, just outside of Petoskey, Michigan.  Our housesitter extraordinaire, Judy, was here to care for the whole crew.  She told us via text the donks had nibbled the new manger so I was prepared (or so I thought) when we got home.

I'm surprised the darn thing was still standing!!

Then a couple of days ago, I let the chickens in after their free-range interlude and came upon this sight.

On the left, they ate through the chicken coop through to the insulation.

Why this odd behavior you ask.

Right about the time Judy came to housesit, the donks were pulled off the pasture for the fall.  There's not much out there at this point for them to munch and if allowed to graze out there will take what's left down to dirt.  Their feed has been upped accordingly.  But they're not happy.  And I'm not happy.

Last evening I threw about 3x the normal amount of shavings down for bedding and it was gone by morning.  Yup, they ate it.  This is somewhat normal this time of year but usually I can start to get a base layer down to build on.  Nope.

If anyone would like four donkeys...  

Morning Faces

Although the temps have cooled in southeast Michigan, the days have been sunny of late, which means good humor in the mornings for beasts, fowl, and humans alike.

Just take a look at these goofy morning donkey faces.  Leisurely munching a plate-load of hay and straw.

 

Invariably Luigi is on one side of the outside manger and the girls steer to the other side

Gabby (background) doesn't have time for silly faces.  There is much chewing to be done.

Sugar needs to know if there are more items on the menu

As I've mentioned, mornings are the best.

Ahhh...

Two Dogs and a Fish

Those residing IN the house are clamoring for the attention they justly deserve; this post will spotlight two dogs and a fish.

You've met them before, but perhaps it's been a bit too long without giving them their due.

Gunner, our Rott/Bernese Mt. dog mix, is about the ripe old age of 12.  Because he was found wandering the streets in a nearby community about nine years ago we can only guess at his age.

How could you not be smitten with that face!

Gunner doesn't realize the summer is fading and his fan is no longer needed.  He faithfully sits in front of it although it's not turned on.  Indeed, it has been his fan all summer.

If you're a faithful reader, you'll remember when Dudley died in October 2017, we waited a few months and then put the wheels in motion to get Gunner a companion.
Voila, Faith appeared on the scene.  The greyhound Princess is only 5 years old and keeps Gun active.

Well, not active all the time.

What a tangle of long legs.

At total rest.








Now I am sure this is Finny's debut on the blog and, boy he is excited.

He is a beauty to be sure, and par for this house, a real food gobbler.
Our conversations are brief but meaningful.

Thwarted by Sparrows

The local gang of sparrows has been eating me out of house and home.  In through the little chicken coop doors they fly in order to feed themselves silly on chicken food.  I buy organic pellets for the girls which ups the price so the sparrows are not welcome.  Plus they could be bringing unwanted disease onto my little flock.  What to do...

I tried to go the cheap route with some netting through Amazon.  The plan was to cover all sides and the top of the chicken run to stop the buggers from getting in.  Bad move.  Rick struggled and struggled and the darn stuff would not stretch to the advertised dimensions.  Back it went. (gosh I sure do appreciate being able to return Amazon items to Kohl's) 

Tractor Supply to the rescue.  This version of the netting did what it was supposed to do.  In spite of the fact installation time was far greater than anticipated, we were pleased.  Until I saw sparrows in the run trying to get out.  The marauders have found some tiny opening and cannot resist the allure of that tasty chicken food.  Apparently getting back out is a dilemma.  I've come to the rescue a couple of times, opening coop doors to shoo them out, but I can't always do that.  So I'm leaving them to their own devices.  And no, we can't determine the whereabouts of the tiny opening(s).

Since losing Jo this week I've been assessing everybody with my eagle eye.  If a chicken makes the smallest odd move, I zoom in to observe.  I did give everyone, even the little girls, a concoction of oatmeal with lots of garlic and cayenne pepper.  Many articles praise garlic for its antibiotic properties.  Since I don't know the cause of Jo's death, a natural proactive intervention can't do any harm. 
I licked the spoon after fixing the oatmeal with herbs and was a little overwhelmed by the garlic, but the girls ate every bit gone.

Cross your fingers...

Another Difficult Post

I lost Jo this morning.  She died in less than 24 hours of me noticing something was off.  You know I just can't bring myself to write about what I thought it was and what, after more reading, I'm suspecting it was.  Maybe later. 

Losing a hen continues to be heart-wrenching. 

Gruel Isn't Cruel

This morning's Sunday breakfast included steel cut oats simmered with blueberries and walnuts.  Rick, always the Sunday morning chef, made a bit too much.  So we shared with the chickens.

Much to my surprise, all birds were enthusiastic.  Usually the big girls are a tad fussy.  And the little girls are partial to greens.  But everyone (except Buffy) dove in.

Don't tell anyone, but I haven't named these cuties yet.  They're just so little and wary, I'm having a problem fitting their names.  It will come. 

Four New Faces

Before I share photos from our latest adventure, please know that I know these are lousy photos.  But I have an excuse.  Really.

And the story goes this way...

About a week ago, friend Cheryl alerted me to the fact the Michigan Humane Society (MHS) website showed four hens up for adoption.  With the following names:  Hillary Fluff, Oprah Henfrey, Henneth Paltrow, Lindsay Lo-Hen.  I called the facility to ask some questions, but didn't get all the answers.  However, I did ask if the girls could be held until Monday for me; we were going to be out of town over the weekend and clearly I didn't want the chicken & donkey sitter to tend to brand new girls.  Their answer was a swift "no".

I called when they opened on Monday and the girls were still available.  We decided to add them to our flock and drove about 40 minutes to the shelter.  It was at this point I got the background story.  In June a hoarding case of 80 birds (ducks, chickens, etc) was uncovered in Detroit (we're about an hour north) and given over to the MHS.  These girls were part of that group.  They were only about a month old and (yes, you can do the math) are now 3-4 months.  Quite young and quite small.  Probably half the size of Sweet Pea and Buffy. 

They are segregated in the new half of the coop with the covered porch.  And will have to stay segregated for a bit.  This morning two escaped while the big girls were out and got harassed.  I had to call for back up. 
Hopefully they do some more growing in the next month and feel better prepared to stand up for themselves against the bullies.

MHS was guessing they are bantam mixes -- two reddish like Isa Browns, one a mottled red/brown, and one mottled buff.

They are shy and skittish and so photos get taken on the fly. 

In mid run, but you can see coloring

And this is the nightly roosting location they have chosen -- on top of the raised window!!

The first night I went in to lock up and heard soft cheeping, couldn't find them anywhere.  

Now I do not believe I will keep the names MHS handed out, clever as they are.  I may try to stick with my female singer names (Lulu, Etta James, Peggy Sue -- OK a song, not a singer, Joannie B(aez), Ruby Dee, Buffy (St. Marie)...  Any thoughts?

Scenes From a Teeny Tiny Farm

You get a gold star if you correctly identify the following beauty

It's Sugar, of course

She has taken Gabby's place elbowing her way to the front of the crowd when I enter the gate in the morning.  And nip at anyone who dares to get too close.  I have to remind everyone I DO NOT like to get caught in the crossfire. 

You may remember I have called Gabariella the "witchy-witch" (except using the "b" word) in part because of this behavior.  Well,  there's a new witch in town. 

Four of the hens banging their cups on the bars, yelling out "You dirty screws!"

Newest addition to the donkey gate

thanks to Crossroads Donkey Rescue auction

Good Reads

No idea how I happened upon it, but I'm recommending you "like" Frog Song Farm Sanctuary on Facebook.  I check out her photo updates regularly and am smitten with her two newest additions, Patrick and Simon the llamas.  Of course the donkeys always grab my attention.

Anyway, if you are a FB browser, check it out.

The blogs I regularly catch up on are not all animal related.
Jo's photos on A Brit in Tennessee  are always a delight.  She has a photographer's eye.   And her sense of humor caught my attention in a blog post of mine from months ago.  I described how Jo the chicken would climb into the treat dish to nibble/hog the treats; the Brit Jo confessed she had been known to do that too.  Still makes me smile.

Of course I am a fan of The Dancing Donkey   Kris has been showing off photos of her new mule baby and I continue to swoon over Ben, her mammoth donkey.  That boy has my heart.

Melba's sewing and gardening skills are always fun to see on Henny Penny Lane.  She provided chicken advice when I was in the early hen stage, and wistfully ogles my donkeys.

So if you find yourself noodling around on the computer, stop by any one of the sites above.
Would like to hear about your faves too.  Please share.

Donkeys Demand Derriere Day

Recently the donkeys voted and requested, nay demanded (!), an international butt-rubbing day be established.  What could I do but comply with their demands.

Each posterior was rubbed sufficiently, at least in my mind, and a potential tricky situation was averted.

Photos of said derrieres follow:

Gabs and Spice

Luigi

 

Sugar

Four oustanding butts/posteriors/derrieres all around

La Dolce Vita

This could more rightly be titled "a little of this, a little of that", but I wanted to finesse things a bit.

Donkey and chicken fans were going full blast, almost 24/7 the past few days, until the high temps broke on Sunday.  Rick elevated the donkey fan to allow for more air flow.  I know I've said it before, but he can be darn handy to have around.  I mentioned how Dee, the owner of the farm I boarded Natural at, had a fan suspended from a rafter.  So, he went out and built our fan shelf.  It really is perfect.

Speaking of horses, is this just a stunning painting -- adjacent to the women's bathroom in the Metamora General Store.  I just had to stand and gaze.

This next story/question isn't so much dolce as, "what the heck".

Buffy, at least 5 years old, has been residing in this nesting box for days.  I haven't seen her join the group during their afternoon walkabout in at least 48 hours.  Any chicken folks have a clue as to the possible reason?  Louise?  Melba?

Next post I'll introduce you to Finny, the incredible beta.

Until then, stay outta trouble.