We have officially been here on the farm for two years now. In some ways the time has flown by, and in others it seems a lifetime ago. When we began our farming adventures here, we thought we knew what we were getting in to. We had some experience, spent countless hours researching and planning, and had a network of friends and family to talk with if we had a problem. No matter how well you prepare for it though, the farming life can certainly throw some surprise at you!   

Growing up I knew I wanted to be a farmer. My biggest dream was to live on a farm, have a big garden, beautiful rolling hills dotted with animals, the smell of flowers in the gentle breeze, as I walk through a perfectly clean barn on a bright sunny day. There are only a few things wrong with the scenario I used to play in my head:   

• 1) In my visions I was always clean!  
• 2) In my visions the barn was always clean!  
• 3) There were no dirty animals!  
• 4) The air smelled like flowers!  

 Do you see a pattern here? Not once in all of my day dreaming did I conjure up a picture of me splattered in mud in the pouring rain chasing an escaped dirty pig through the yard and back into it’s electric fence with lightening flashing all around. Reality is quit different from my childhood dreams, but it is also so much more exciting! The longer we are here, the more we realize there are many things we never knew about farming!    

Pigs are clean animals  

Really, they are! Pigs do not wander around in their own filth as many people think. In the wintertime, our pigs are usually spotlessly clean on pretty days. However, pigs can not sweat. So in the summer time when the temperatures climb, they must find a way to cool down. They do so by taking a mud bath! The cool mud serves two purposes. First it cools the pig, and second it acts as a sun block preventing their skin from burning. You will notice that when the temperature goes back down pigs will seek a source of water and take a bath. They enjoy being clean! In the winter when the weather is very messy and muddy, our pigs do their best to stay clean. Even if it means taking a bath in t heir drinking water!  

Roosters are not good alarm clocks

We have all seen the movies where the rooster crows at dawn to wake the family up for their daily farm chores. Either the movies didn’t do their research, or our roosters are defective! When we had only two roosters thing were pretty quiet. One was dominant, and the other was ok with that. Our problem began when we started hatching our own chicks. We soon found ourselves with roosters of all ages. As they matured, these roosters would begin to compete for rank amongst themselves. The result, crowing from midnight to 6 am! Now, we try not to keep more than a handful of roosters of a mature breeding age. Typically, we have 1 rooster for every 6-8 hens. At this ratio, we have cut out much of the all night crowing!  

During a drought, cut hay

During the summer if you find yourself going through a period of drought and you really need rain, cut hay. Ok, maybe this isn’t based on solid scientific facts but it seems to me that every time the weather report says it will be clear and we cut hay…. It rains! So logically I am thinking a good way to end a drought is to cut hay! So next time your garden is dry, cracked, and resembling the grand canyon just go cut some hay.    

Get used to dirt  

The first spring we lived here I tried in vain to keep the kids clean outside. I honestly thought we could all get through our daily chores without getting messy. Ha! If you want to farm, seriously farm with more than just a horse in a barn stall, you are going to get dirty! Best thing to do is just accept this, go buy a pair of rubber boots and a few pairs of blue jeans and get to it. Throw your hair up in a ponytail, dig out that old t-shirt you haven’t worn since college and enjoy yourself! Chances are no one will see you anyway, and who cares if they do? There are some advantages to being known as “the crazy lady.”  

Farms do not have to smell

Everyone always associates farms with bad animal smells. One of our family’s favorite movies is Nanny McPhee 2. I love the scene where “the cousins” come to visit the farm. The little boy steps out of the car into messy, muddy, manure covered ground and says, “We’re in the land of poo!”  Most people just believe that is expected. While it is true that most factory farms do stink due to the large concentration of animals in small areas, smaller farms and well ran large farms do not have to smell. Using proper land use ratios, adequate bedding, and good husbandry a farm can be pretty near odor free. So it may not smell like fresh flowers in a gentle breeze, but any properly ran operation regardless of the type of livestock raised can maintain a low odor, even on the hottest summer day. Joel Salatin, leading farm advocate and author of many books including Folks, This Ain’t Normal (one of my favorites!) covers this topic, and many more typical farmyard myths.    

Dirty Stalls are not a bad thing

Lets re-phrase that, deep litter stalls are not a bad thing. I used to believe that a properly cleaned barn or pen was spotless with a single layer of clean bedding on the floor. The more I am learning about natural farming methods though the more we are seeing this isn’t the case. The most efficient, healthy, and productive way of handling stalls and pens is to use plenty of bedding, and repeatedly layer new bedding on top of the old. Then, when you have accumulated several layers of alternating manure and bedding, it can all be removed and used as compost. For more on this topic, I would highly recommend Holy Shit by Gene Logsdon. We are currently using this method in our junior poultry pens. We now have a nice bed nearly 10 inches thick of manure and bedding! And guess what? In a pen of 37 birds there is absolutely no odor beyond the smell of hay and feed.  

Bet your daydreams never included this image!

My Dad came over two weekends ago to watch the kids for us on a cold, wet Saturday so we could get some chores done that required more than one able body at a time. Our list of things to do that day included: Worm, vaccinate and do toenail trims on 14 sheep then band one young ram. Castrate, worm, and vaccinate a boar pig. Move four sheep into a new pasture. And finally, band, worm, and vaccinate a 300 lb. Bull calf.  The weather was supposed to be over cast, windy, with a 20% chance of late afternoon showers. I headed outside in a pair of old jeans, hiking boots, t-shirt and light jacket. Things were going smooth and quickly for a while. Had a little trouble with a few unruly sheep but nothing major. All we had left was doing the bull and moving the sheep. We were congratulating ourselves on what good time we were making! Suddenly, a rain drop lands on my nose. Then another, and within minutes a heavy, steady rain.  The temperature quickly dropped and the wind picked up. Andrew is holding the bull while I have the unpleasant task of banding and vaccinating. As I am standing to one side with my leg bracing the bull and my head practically upside down trying to fit a band on a wet bull Andrew starts laughing. He says, “Bet you never thought you’d be doing THIS when you grew up!” I can only imagine what I looked like there at that moment with my hair plastered to me, shivering in my saturated jacket with sheep and cow crap down my pants and blood on my shirt (where did that come from?). In that moment I realized how strong my marriage is. If he can love me looking like that, then we’re doing just fine! And no, I can honestly say I never, ever, not once, thought I would be doing that when I was young!   

Cats aren’t just cute house pets

Andrew is not a cat person. He never really has been, sure he has tolerated one here or there for my sake a few times during our marriage. That’s about where his relationship with them has ended. Until recently. Last year we found ourselves over run with rats in the garden, mice in the feed sacks, and moles all over the yard. We had not owned a cat in three years. Andrew agreed it may be time to call in back up. So we brought home our first two kittens Boots and Tiger. They sleep in the feed shed and enjoy their run of the place, coming inside to play with the kids in their down time. Things quickly improved, and we began receiving “presents” on the front porch when they were only three months old. Tiger is no longer with us, but we have since added Milo, Max, Jinx, and Stix to the line-up. Boots has trained them well, and we have not seen a live mouse or rat since last summer! The moles are fewer as well. I would much rather feed a few cats than be over run with rodents!  

Some things you just can’t learn from books. You have to live them, experience them, and learn as you go. While our life here doesn’t exactly match what I had pictured in my dreams, I wouldn’t have it any other way.   

Follow our farming adventures at “Ans Farms” on Facebook!  

We used to live in Mid-Coast Maine. Cold, wet, smoggy, foggy, steamy, cloudy Maine. Then I learned that I was to be transported to Kansas, with or without my consent. So we packed up our things and took a nice long drive to what I deemed the middle of absolutely nowhere. Pretty soon without my realizing it, I began to change. I now was interested in how these huge fields of dirt became huge fields of corn, wheat or soybeans. When I went to somebody’s farm, I was not interested in their house but the animals outside of it. Without myself hardly knowing it, I began to want chickens.

So I looked at some articles on the internet, and some magazines in the farm stores, and I decided that I wanted chickens. So like any good daughter, I asked my parents over dinner if I might keep a couple hens and try my luck with the whole chicken raising thing. My parents, unfortunately, knew something that I did not, chickens were against the law in this city that we lived in (so were panthers, lions, zebras, goats, and sheep). Just when things started to look grim for my dreams of being a chicken farmer, I stumbled across a website dedicated to the ‘Chicken Revolution.’

Now, I learned that this was an effort to bring chickens back to the city. I learned that it was possible to change the ordinances. I learned that one person wanting chickens in a small town was not a mental condition to be treated by psychiatrists, but a condition where there is but one cure: chickens. I had a very serious illness called chicken fever. I spent hours searching for the perfect breed. There were days my biology lesson consisted of looking at all the sicknesses that could affect poultry and their cures. I learned how to bone a chicken. One day I made a frittata, and another day I made a chicken pot pie. Pretty soon this disease could not be satisfied by just eating eggs or chicken, accompanied by looking at adorable baby chickies on the internet. Every time I went to a friend’s house I had to pet a chicken. My condition was worsening with each passing day.

Since I am home educated, I happen to be able to redirect some of the time spent on certain subjects, and put some of my previous learning to practical use. Within a space of a month, I created a draft ordinance proposal to allow chickens, an accompanying power point presentation, and managed to get on the agenda for the small city council meeting. My speech on how chickens can save the world and fly to the moon, seemed to hit a nice spot in the council members, and they agreed to allow chickens in the city.

Immediately, I began to search for the exact breeds I wanted. It was not a difficult decision to get bantams, because I have always loved miniature things, and a little chicken was just too irresistible. Then began the difficult part. I had to find the right breeds. I wanted pretty eggs and pretty chickens, so I decided to get an order of 5 Easter eggers, 5 mille fluer d’uccles, and 2 silkies. When they arrived I put them in a plastic box I had set up in my bedroom, with a red heat lamp. This lamp, I soon learned, made getting to sleep very difficult, as well as their incessant (and totally adorable) peeping.

After about a week, my parents decided they were done waiting for eggs. My mother searched high and low on Craigslist for full grown chickens, and we managed to find 3 bantam golden-laced cochin hens, but they came with a rooster. Of course we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have hens and we quickly finished the coop (made from recycled materials), and bought the girls, and dude, and got them all situated in their new accommodations.

Around this time my room began to really smell. The baby chickens weren’t quite as little as they once were, and they were trying to fly. What did we do to fix this problem? We put them out in the coop on one of the sides with chicken wire from the floor to the ceiling. The first night sleeping without that heat lamp in my bedroom was the first time I had got a really nice sleep in about a month.

Then we learned that the rooster (Paprika), crowed a lot. And he taught the little dudes that I had to crow too. So we brought them to a farmer friend’s house and ate them for dinner one day. That mixed with a doggy problem, and some water on the brain, we were left with four pullets, and three hens (one who was broody). Once some eggs hatched, and a couple pet swaps, and some more craigslist-ing, we got our flock up to seventeen chickens, when the town only allowed twelve.

Pretty soon after the four males started causing a racket we moved to our current place of residence. It is a beautiful farm (I am very prejudiced), with five acres (although some of those are still row crop being farmed by the nice man we bought it from) and we have fifty chickens, two goats, a Dexter heifer, three bunnies (with maybe some more on the way), and three dogs. To top it all off, we are the happiest we have been in a long time, and here there are no neighbors to get upset that our roosters are crowing. 

Hello Everyone! Usually I like to keep things light and fun, but sometimes life gets in the way.

All of you should be familiar with my 2 roosters; Chatty and Cashmere by now. For 17 months I have raised, loved and spoiled them daily. Chatty though, began to change when he got into the coop with his girls. This is normal as they become protectors instead of just the family pet. And Cashmere, as we all know has always been aggressive. Daily I have had to fight off one or the other when I go to let them and the girls out of the coop. I have been hurt so bad by the spurs that I have come close to passing out from the pain but being bull-headed I ignored it and continued on.

Well in January, I started getting sick and found a lump in my armpit that I watched. By May, it hurt and got big enough I went to the doctor. Come to find out, I had a bacterial infection, probably caused from all the daily spur and nail attacks. My 51-year-old body couldn’t handle the daily abuse and rebelled big time. Now, most people won’t think twice about getting rid of the cause, in this case 2 roosters, but for me it was very very hard just to even think about.

Finally one day, Chatty hit me so hard and fast I had to kick him across the run just to get away from him, and he still charged after me. I HAD to let them go. I have a wonderful food co-op lady, who let me bring them to her so she could get them to another woman for me. Yes, I cried the whole 30 minute drive there, with Chatty sitting next to me and Cashmere in a box in the backseat. It has been 4 days, and I still cry over what I had to do because the woman she was giving them to was going to kill them and eat them.

I tried Craigslist, but everyone wanted hens or roosters to kill. So, I was in a hard place mentally, but knew I had to give in and let it happen, though my heart was breaking. I would have not done it at all, but even separating Chatty from his girls to be in the house with me didn’t stop his attacking, whereas at one time he never attacked me away from them. Some of you will read this and think “good grief the woman is being stupid over some roosters,” but the ones who read my Blog know I raised these guys from day old chicks, spoiled them with treats and love. Chatty I had taught to walk on a lead, ride in the car with me and gave him his own chair in the dining room. So, for me, they weren’t “just” roosters, they were my pets who I adored.

Driving away and leaving them was very hard and all night I fought getting in the car and getting them back. But I also realize, I need to stay healthy for all my other pets who depend on me. I have 2 hens who live in the house because of deformities. I have a 14-year-old blind dog and a diabetic cat who all need daily care by me, and when I am sick it’s all I can do to get out of bed. So, yeah I had to make a grown-up choice, and I hated it every step of the way. I don’t see myself as someone who gives up or quits. When it comes to my animals, I will put up with a lot so they have a good safe life. Speaking of that, anyone interested in a 6-month-old biting pot belly pig?!

Until next time, have a wonderful chicken day.

Hello Everyone! Spring is in the air!

How do I know this? Mating attempts have picked up with my 2 very fine boys. Now, growing up on a farm I have witnessed this wonderful time when the animals are feeling the love. Well, I am telling you right now, I am greatly disappointed in the roosters attempt to love their hens!

Let me go back a ways and tell you about Cashmere. He, as you know is my very aggressive Welsummer, which can be a good thing. But when he was just learning he was a male he was like a male dog out of control. Oh no, not with the girls, he decided my stuffed fuzzy teddy bear just had to be loved and loved a lot! When he felt he had done his job he would run over to the dogs bed and love on the corner of it. I must admit in some sick way it was the funniest thing I had ever seen, and he was so proud. He would prance around when he was done just singing like he was the “Man.”

Chatty, on the other hand never found anything interesting unless it was breathing and looked like a hen. I got to witness his first attempts, and I would say he just didn’t seem to get what needed to be done. My hen would watch him as he did what we call the “Happy Dance” around her, his head and body leaning in towards her. Once he got closer, she kneeled down like she should, and he mounted. Good so far. Problem was he didn’t know her tail needed to be up and out of the way. He sprayed my floor. Yeah, go ahead and laugh, I sure did. After a few times of him doing this over the next few days, he finally figured it out. We cheered for the boy, and the hen ran away.

Seems the 2 boys finally figured out what and who they were suppose to be mating with, so I was pleased. Chatty, being a Buff Orpington is a very big heavy boy, and he loves his littlest girls. Poor Bowzer who is as small as a Silky caught his eye on day. She was smart and got down quick but as soon as he put one foot on her a egg shot out! It hadn’t formed its hard shell so it exploded as it hit the ground. Bowzer was not a happy camper, I can tell you that. She ran over to the egg and put up quite a fuss. She learned when he does his “Happy Dance” to run as far away as she can now. Well, until yesterday.

We finally went and did our taxes, and the weather was so nice, I put all the girls from the basement coop out into the run with Cashmere. Cashmere woudn’t stop crowing, so I had to bring him in. I thought this would be a good time for Chatty to say “Hi” to the girls again. While we were gone Bowzer must have forgotten to run. My poor little girl was limping, and he had put so much pressure on her that part of her vent lining was exposed. Normally I have Tucks for an old dog, but I couldn’t find them. But I have DMSO, which is used on horses for muscle swelling or damage. I first washed her back area, then put a warm wet washcloth on her vent area while I held her. She enjoyed this so much she fell asleep.

DMSO is very strong, so you need very little, and you do not want to touch it! Why, you ask? Any that gets on your skin will make you taste a strong garlic-like favor that takes forever to go away. I learned about this as a teen on our farm, we used it on our cows, sheep and dogs for sprains, muscle tension or swelling. This morning when I checked on Bowzer, her vent was back to normal, but to be on the safe side I fed her greek yogurt and very wet feed last night. I knew I could handle the diarrhea much easier than her having to strain and injure herself more. Now she is still limping, so will retreat the leg with the DMSO and keep her quiet in the bathroom. Chatty did this to Mae-Belle also, not the vent injury but the leg injury so bad she could no longer use it. Mae-Belle was bigger but didn’t know to get down as quick and suffered for it.

Cashmere, on the other hand, is still doing fine with his mating, no teddy bear for him now. Though he is very tall, he weighs next to nothing, so the girls handle him well. Plus some of the bigger girls just peck at him to chase him off if they are not in the mood. His poor crown area is always scabbed up from the bossy girls in his bunch. I have decided now that Chatty, though a sweet boy, has got to have the heavier girls who can handle him. If you have ever heard the term “Big Lug” that fits him to a T. So once Bowzer is better she will go back with Cashmere until I get my Silkie male, and any other little girls I have or get will be with him. I know chickens really don’t have expressions, but I swear when that egg shot out of Bowzer  she was in shock and her little face got this distressed look of “My baby!” You couldn’t help laughing, but I did pick her up and remove her from the area while I cleaned up the egg. She’d had enough stress for one day.

I never realized the roosters will mate with whatever size hen that gets in their way. There were 4 larger girls in there with Chatty, but he had to pick on Bowzer. Well, I have learned another chicken lesson, fit the hens to the size or weight of the rooster! Even though it’s entertaining I hate the fact they end up with bad leg injuries. So it’s another day, and I will be getting 5 new hens from my neighbor soon. These girls are about 2 yrs old and big enough to handle Chatty (I hope). But I am sure I will see more eggs fly across the run eventually. Too bad he doesn’t understand “Bad Boy!” Or is a tad bit pickier about who he mounts.

Until next time, have a great chicken day!