Buffy St. Marie, aka our new chicken

Yes, we're up to five now.  Chickens that is.

Doug, the local bread bakery owner, lost two of his girls to we-don't-know-what-but-it-might-have-been-a-hawk-or-a-fox within a week and didn't want to keep the third girl locked up, miserable but safe.  So, he asked if I wanted another hen.  OK, I said.

Never having introduced a stranger to the flock, I consulted with my chicken mentor and she suggested placing the newbie in a cage within the coop.  The regulars could see her, smell her, talk to her, but not get into any tussles.  Aha!  I'm acquainted with that technique with equines, so it all made sense. Rick said, why not the dog kennel we're not using -- brilliant! -- nice and big.

Buffy arrived Saturday afternoon and stayed in the dog kennel until this morning, Monday.  As I opened the kennel door to get her food and water bowls (now on the top of the cage), she escaped. She wanted no part of that darn kennel anymore.

(I thought Sweet Pea was my linebacker, but Buffy now gets the title, She's a big-un.)

Anyway, when she escaped the kennel and ran out into the donkey yard, where the rest of the girls were, Golda charged her a few times but then seemed to settle.  I chastised Golda each time, and I know you won't believe me, but she stopped.

The hens was confined to the coop and pen until this afternoon when everyone was released for free-range time,
Ruby and Buffy fraternized for a bit.














However, when I went out later to pull the donks in from the pasture and gather the girls back into the chicken pen, Buffy was in the coop on top of the dog kennel.  I guess that's her safe spot for the time being.  So we don't have integration yet, but I'm hoping in a couple of days, she'll get the lay of the land and feel more comfortable.

By-the-by, she was already named Buffy and we decided her full name as Buffy St. Marie fit better with Ruby Dee and Emmy Lou than Buffy the Vampire Killer.  Don't you agree...  

Donkeys Oh So Eager for The Spring Pasture

A couple of days ago I sat with four donkey nuts on the driveway so they could get their fix of green grass.  When I first started doing this  a few years ago, I had to string a rope across the driveway to ensure there were no escapees (a few times they did escape and it was no easy feat getting them to leave the across-the-street neighbor's lawn).  But now they seem to know and respect the rules.  I take a chair, a short whip and a book, and keep an eye out while reading.

 It's just a tad too early to let them out on the pasture.  Looks nice and green from a distance.

But when you get up close... a different story.

Weedy and not so lush.

 We've worked so hard on the pasture and never seem to get ahead.  Yes, we threw seed in the sparse patches in March, but don't see much reward for the labor and money spent.

As I strolled around the pasture, everyone was on high alert.  Donks and chickens alike.

l-r:  Ruby Dee, Sweet Pea, Emmy Lou, Golda

And here's the whole gang

 Just keep your shorts on little donkeys, only another week or two...

Volunteer Days at SASHA Farm Sanctuary

Before I regale you with the story of my new adventure (away from my four hooligans) I wish to thank each of you who responded to my last post.  Thank you for your support.  When I say it touches me, you can believe it.

And now for the adventure.
I don't recall exactly how I came to know SASHA Farm, but friend, Bev, and I visited on a couple of occasions during open houses and I felt the magnetic pull on my gut.   There you can see cows, hogs, horses, donkeys, pot-bellied pigs, goats, sheep, chickens, roosters, emus, geese, turkeys, dogs, cats. ( Gosh, hope I haven't left anyone out.)

They have all been rescued.

Some from slaughterhouses, some from negligent homes, some from fighting situations.

I had assisted SASHA financially, but knew I had to do more.  Problem is, it's a 90-minute drive. One way.  I pondered my commitment to this endeavor for quite a while before signing up for a training session.  And I approached friend Bev to come with (two people making the drive is so much more fun).  She had to consider too, but jumped on board.  As it stands now, we both visit SASHA on a bi-weekly basis and our primary job is watering everyone.  We're becoming more efficient with each visit, but it still takes us almost three hours.

I offer these photos so you can see us in action and meet some of the honored residents.

    


Bev waters Johnny Cash.  He is one of her favorites.

Pig heaven with the pot-bellies

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Any treats?

Me and Bhima (sp?)

You wouldn't believe how hard it is too step over an emu in a confined space














More photos of more residents to come (it's hard to remember to take pictures as you're doing chores.)

Donkey Blogging Doesn't Warrant Criticism

I drafted this blog post two weeks ago in an emotional response to the last post.  But I didn't publish it.  Although my anger has cooled, I believe every point is true.

Many many years ago I commented to a friend that I had never met a bunch of (highly) opinionated people as I had with horse folks.  Boy, did I get that right.

I have been lambasted/villified on a Linked In horse forum for daring to utter my opinion on vaccines, I have been criticized on a FB donkey group for describing a feeding regime I use with my donks.  Fellow donkey blogger, Kris, said, "Therein lies the problem with FaceBook, too many opinions based on not enough data." And now I have been criticized on my own blog.  Not really constructive criticism, just criticism.  Balderdash.

I think I can synthesize the point of this blog as this:
* offer non-donkey owners a glimpse into the lives of my four to enjoy their day-to-day routines and exploits
* share info with fellow donkey owning readers
* provide an avenue for my writing enjoyment

Criticism doesn't fall into any of those categories.  Suggestions, yes.

I think I need to rethink this whole blogging business.

Out With the Oats, In With the Beet Pulp

Little Alice (she's actually bigger than the other hyenas but because she's older and skinnier I call her "little") was on a little serving of whole oats as per the vet's instructions, but after a suggestion by fellow donkey blogger Kris, and some reading, I've converted to beet pulp.  To add some poundage to the girl.

"It has approximately the same food value as oats, but without as much starch and sugar content."

What I've purchased does not contain molasses and is shredded.  It needs to be soaked prior to serving.

This shot was taken  prior to adding water.

A little difficult to discern, but after hydration it plumps up and is a darker brown.  I like to over-saturate it.  After feeding dogs in the morning, I add some hot water to the bowl of pulp, let it sit for just a few minutes while I tend to other morning duties, and add a little more water.  I probably soak it longer than is needed, but I want to make sure it's fully plumped before hitting Alice's belly.

Recently I've added just a wee bit of the oats to the mix -- I figure it's like adding some nuts to your oatmeal -- a nice little crunch. And some needed calories.

The little girl gobbles it up and leaves no residue in the bowl.

Thumbs up.

Let There Be Light - Coop Windows

The hens finally got real, gen-u-ine windows in the coop.

Husband Rick was able to whip up these beauties in nothin' flat. One on the east side and one on the west.

The Point?  Lots of beautiful non-artifical light when the coop is closed up; the girls can now enjoy the natural light rhythms of the day.
And, some much-needed cross-ventilation on those sultry summer days.
He had installed vents on both sides of the coop when it was initially constructed but they were not useful for lighting and didn't really help a lot with airflow.

Hard to discern from here, but when it's warm enough to prop them open, the hens will be protected by the hardware cloth Rick put over the window openings. Any varmints who might think a hen would make a tasty treat will be thwarted. 

Added bonus:  the girls offered up 4 eggs today.  That hasn't happened over the winter months.  This wonderful natural light will be helping production.

Thank you girls.

Dudley's Moment to Shine

It dawned on me recently that I've only briefly introduced you to the two dogs, Dudley and Gunner. That is about to change!

I'm going to put Dudley in the spotlight today.  Yes, he's my favored boy as my good friends know.  It always strikes me as odd that guests to the house invariably cuddle up to Gunner, yet, it's so obvious Dudley is the smarter more classically handsome dog.

Gunner on the left, Dudley on the right

Let me explain how Dudley came to our home.

The year 2006 was probably the worst year of my life.  My mom died in January and my dad followed in March.  Other deaths continued.  The mom of a friend of my son's (whom I had grown close to), my horse barn owner (the same age as my mom), our remaining dog Barney, my parents' dog, Gracie, whom we had adopted.  

Finally in November (my birthday month) I said to my husband it was imperative to bring something into my life and we needed to go to one of the shelters and rescue a dog.  This was the first time in our marriage that we were dogless.

Our intent was to find an adult dog who might be languishing in a shelter.  But it was not to be.

We arrived at the Michigan Animal Rescue League and my husband was instantly drawn to a golden retriever, but who had just been spoken for that day.  We continued looking and I walked down the aisleway of kennels.  Lots of barking dogs.  I came upon "Clyde" and thought it was a sign as my dad's name is Clyde.  But I kept walking, right on to the last kennel.  Instead of a barking dog, I saw a black youngster lying on the floor looking forlorn.  His name was Hewlett and we asked to see him.

His story was this.  He had come to that same shelter in April of 2006 with the rest of his littermates.  The shelter was full but the staff had an odd feeling about the woman who brought the pups.  So they agreed to take them.  Hewlett got adopted but was "returned" at the beginning of November at nine months of age.  The story goes that his adoptive mom was pregnant and felt the dog was getting too big -- a bologna story if I ever heard one. 

So Hewlett came home with us and he was christened Dudley (aka Dudes, Duds.

The Duds is 10 this year and showing his years with the gray creeping into his formerly jet black coat.  However, I still think he is beautiful, while Gunner is cute.

He's a black lab mix and is quite tall and long and weighs in at about 80-85 lbs.  Gunner keeps him busy running after squirrels and digging holes.

And now you know why that handsome Dude is so special to me and is indeed, and always will be, my favored boy.