Tuesday, September 28, 2010

The Smartest Dog Breed...

So all the broilers are in the freezer.  I had a meltdown about Hour 12 of the process.  I'm over it.  I swore I would  never butcher another chicken for as long as I live.  It's hard.  I'll do it again next year. 

So having grossed a lot of you totally out, here's a story for the supper table.  I made sure the puppy stayed in the house during the whole operation.  So after everything was done and cleaned up and put away and I was standing in the kitchen with a glass of wine and a twitchy eye, I heard "hgmmmmlurrrrp".  Well right in the middle of this meaningful phrase I looked at Husband.  I believe it was right around "hgmmm..." and said, "Did the dog get out?"  And right in the middle of him saying, "No", so right around "N-" The puppy ended his meaningful soliloquy with "Harggggck!"  and all that I was trying to erase from my brain was expounded once more right at my feet.  The innards that were made outards, were wonderfully made innards once more AAAANNNDDD then once more outards.    Husband's interupted denial of puppy egress..."Nnnn-Ooooh (wincing)---maybe? Yup, I guess so.  Sorry."  Oh Lord.

Then in the morning having sensed the blood in the air, our dear puppy thought it would behoove him to try his own plucking.  Though his chicken was a little more than a baby and not dead.  I came across it at the bottom of the stairs laying on it's back with no feathers left-but alive, barely.  I picked it up and it opened it's little eyes and looked at me.  "WTF!" it gasped.  (Sorry for the swears, it wasn't me.  It was the CHICKEN). 

A few hours under a heat lamp and some sugar water and it came right back to rights.  He/she will be fine.  The puppy however is not allowed unsupervised while in the outsides anymore.   He does show signs of remorse, however. 

Smiles from the farm,

I'm vewwwy, veweey sowwwy.  It will never happen again.

Hey, look, a chicken! 

Sunday, September 26, 2010

My Recipe for Take Out Chicken...

You know how the Pioneer Woman posts all those recipes and she's all detailed with the 37 pictures of her butter?  Well here is my version.  I believe in brevity. 


Step One:

Someone has to lose their head. 

Step Two:


And there you have it.  My famous TAKE OUT CHICKEN. 

Now let the millions of dollars in endorsements and advertising come forth. 

Smiles and sincere apologies from the farm,

(It's been a long weekend)

Monday, September 20, 2010

Mad, mad, mad, mad men....

I know that most of you don't watch Mad Men.  I don't know why, but I know that you don't.  You have lives and participate in activities that do not include fictional characters.  La-Ti-Da.  But I just neeeeeed to say this, I'll make it quick and ever after I will only talk about baby goats and puppies, antiques, my garden and more stuff about puppies.  OK. 

OMG they killed Ms. Blankenship.  I just don't know why.  Poor dear.  Now what happened to Don saying that walking Dr. Miller to the door was as far as he could go right now?  Next thing you know they're knocking lamps off his bed stand.  My goodness.   Did Joan and Roger really do IT standing up in that yucky alley way.  That's just gross.  WHY can't Sally live with her dad?  That little chick is going down the wrong path.  Someone needs to do something.  And it sure isn't going to be Betty.  Blech, I hate me some Betty let me tell you.  Then holy cow I was almost certain that they were going to make Peggy a lesbian.  Not that there's anything wrong with that.  Just not Peggy.  She needs a nice man who treats her like an equal and is sensitive and kind and smart and plays the guitar.  Ok that's what MY criteria is---was---whatever.   Finally, my god people-have a Pepsi or something enough with the booze.  Jeesh. 

Phew.  Thank you for humoring me.  Now back to our regularly scheduled program. 

(Don't worry we have no idea what she's talking about either. )

Friday, September 17, 2010

Lame Ducks and Racist Puppies...

A few months ago I bought a small incubator at the auction for $6.00.  Since I had no fertile eggs to hatch in said incubator, I did what any die hard, weathered, experienced farm girl would do and I bought 12 duck eggs on Ebay.  'Cause that's what our forefathers would have done iffen they were needin' some ducks. 

Now I bid and won Six Muscovey duck eggs.  They look like this when they are full grown...

Funky huh?  Well what I got was FOUR Muscovey duck eggs and EIGHT Cayuga duck eggs because the seller didn't have SIX Muscovey duck eggs and instead gave me EIGHT Cayuga ducks eggs to make up for the two Muscoveys that he didn't have.  Got it?  So the potential was there for FOUR Muscovey ducks and EIGHT Cayuga ducks.  The Cayuga duck looks like this...

So that was fine.  Green ducks would be cool too.  Well I knew having never actually hatched eggs in an incubator that my hatch rate would very well likely not be more than 50%.  I was hoping for a boy and girl Muscovey and a boy and girl Cayuga.  So four ducks.  And low and behold only four ducks hatched.  Two Muscovey's and two Cayugas.  Which is probably a pretty good hatch rate for Ebay ducks.  I have no idea of their gender.  One of the Muscovey's did not make it, so now I have three ducks.  One Muscovey and two Cayugas.  Whatever...what the heck am I going to do with ducks anyway? 

Well in my infinite wisdom I have been feeding the ducks a grain that is too high in protein and has produced in the Muscovey duck a wing condition known as Angel Wing.  Her/His wings are floppy and growing out from the body instead of lying flat to the body.  So in consulting my ancient book of farmer's secrets (ie: I Googled it).  I learned that the ducks wings have to be taped close to the body for five to seven days which will result in proper blood flow and with the right diet the condition may be reversed.  Now ducks are not nice.  They are not friendly or cuddly and nice.  They are rude and snobby and don't like me at all.  They did not bond to me like they do on cartoons, they do not follow me around the yard and quack.  They run from me and will break thier necks against the fence when I try to pet them.  So I don't like ducks and if these ducks are all boys I will give them away or let Husband eat them.  HA! Take that you mean ducks.  If they are girls and lay eggs for me, then they can stay.  But I cannot let the duck's wings go wonky, so I followed the directions on the Google and taped her wings.  She LOVES me now let me tell you  Oh and did I mention that Muscovey ducks have claws at the ends of their cute little webbed feet.  Well they do.  And they're sharp.  I don't like ducks and well ducks don't like me. 

Here are the two Cayuga ducks under the Esperanza Family Hammock, which leads me to a whole different story...

The Esperanza Family Hammock is about four years old and one of my most favorite things.  Well it used to be.  I used to run out and take it down when it rained.  I don't anymore and it's a little gray and the wood has lost it's varnish.  Now let me think where did I get the Esperanza Family Hammock and why on earth do I call it that?  Ebay.  And I call it that because the description on Ebay said that it was hand woven by the Esperanza family of...ummm...South America somewhere?  We feel it is vital to not only name livestock purchased on Ebay but also all household items purchased therein.  Isn't it pretty? 


We're not sure why Puppy has such intense disdain for the Esperanza Family. .    He also hates cobblers, haberdashers,  producers of furniture legs, people who tend to appreciate that garbage stay in the designated recepticals and goats, especially those of the Nigerian race.   

Sighs from the farm,

Thursday, September 9, 2010

I Defecate this Post to Poo...

This has been a crappy week.  Not in a cliche kind of way.  Not like you wake up late and have a flat tire and spill your mochca choka latte on yourself week.  No, this has been literally a crappy week.  If it went in, well it came out and somehow ended up on me.  If a dude with little to no fine motor skills decides that he is tired of waiting and changes his own diaper, this was the week for it to happen.  If I had to muck the dwellings of  seven turkeys, 30 chickens, 3 ducks, 4 goats wearing flip flops because a puppy chewed up my shoes, this was the week for it to happen. Have you ever seen turkey poop.  No, it is not nice.   If stress and new schedules resulted in a bit of irregularity, well when the cork popped,  I was there to witness it.  If it could be stepped in, smeared, splattered, squished or smelt, well yippee damn skippee this was the week for me to wallow in it. 

Oh Well. 
JeeSH.  IT happens. 

Have a very regular day,

Monday, September 6, 2010


What idiot thought it would be a good idea to get a puppy? 

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

In Spite of Ourselves...

So young, so happy, no wrinkles, no gray hair, no baggy eyes....

(why can't I wear red roses in my hair everyday?)

What a difference nine years makes....

Happy anniversary Husband. 
For the tenth I want plastic surgery.  Or a cow. 

Smiles from the farm,