Sally thought it would be neat to try raising some pheasants that we could eventually release on the farm. So when she suggested it, we were game: After all, we’ve raised chickens, ducks, geese, and turkeys – how hard could it be to raise pheasants? Continue reading “Pheasant Folly”
The moment Pee Wee entered my life is burned into my memory like a hot poker.
It was early evening. I was at the kitchen sink washing the dishes. The back door opened and I heard this god awful screeching like some wild thing being tortured, and my blood froze. Continue reading “Pee Wee”
Lightning bugs are just starting to appear; they wink above the pasture in a hypnotic display to the backdrop of frogs calling to each other across the creek. I hear a pig snuffle in the woods, and once in awhile a breeze carries the faint but unmistakable smell of pig my way, but it is not unpleasant. Continue reading “Evening on the Porch”
Springtime here seems to emerge like fall in reverse: Leaves go from red, orange, gold – to green. And the green grass is so bright, it is sometimes iridescent. Blossoms are everywhere – white, soft pink, strawberry, magenta, deep purple. The doe-eyed Jersey calves run and leap around the pasture dotted with violets and the glowing yellow-orange faces of buttercups. Continue reading “Springtime Musings”
One good way to get your mind off of things is to visit the pigs. Continue reading “Pig Therapy”
There is a hierarchy on the farm that goes like this: Barn cats rule the rodents, chickens rule the barn cats, ducks rule the chickens, and the geese rule all. Big and boisterous, they march around the farm in a noisy group, sounding off as they go. They make a ruckus over just about everything – even when they see us walk past the window when we’re inside the house. I’m sure all the neighbors can hear, although we’ve never received any complaints. Continue reading “Goose Patrol”
He sees me in the window and sidles up. Pecks the ground, but his eye is beaded on me. I know that look. I’ve seen it in many a rooster’s gaze – Jacques, Mr. Peabody, Lorenzo, even Mr. Lawrence, our very first rooster – a switch goes off in their tiny brains and they transform, seemingly overnight, from friendly and sweet to aggressive.
But with Raymond, who is watching me now, this switch happened early – before his spurs came in. And, unlike those before him, who seemed to single me out in particular, he attacks indiscriminately, flying at anyone on two legs who crosses his path. Continue reading “Raymond the Rhode Island Red”
It’s one of those wonderfully strange days when it rains while the sun is shining. The sun warms my face, my outstretched legs, while the rain cools my head and shoulders. It feels tropical, and for a moment, I close my eyes and imagine I’m on the beach in Maui… Continue reading “Raising Lucky”
Jacques has abandoned our hens.
He left them to court five younger hens down at the barn, escapees from the mobile coop when our guys moved it out onto the pasture on the other side of the farm the other day. The renegade hens were roosting in the rafters rather than inside the coop with the rest of the flock. Continue reading “Jacques and his girlfriends”
Yesterday was my dad’s 80th birthday. He doesn’t seem like 80; he’s sharp as a tack, and just as feisty. Continue reading “Driving along a country road”