Brooding Disaster

Saturday, I told Chris that we needed to move the broody hen and her clutch of eggs to the chicken tractor that night. We forgot. The next day, I told Chris again, "We have to move the chicken tonight." But by the time I remembered Sunday night, Chris was showered and in his jammies, ready to relax, and I didn't feel like doing it by myself.

Monday evening, I went to check for eggs after the Memorial Day gathering and found the hen off the nest, three eggs missing, and a yolky mess covering the nest and four remaining eggs. I wasn't sure if I should try to clean the eggs to see if they would still hatch, but they didn't feel very warm, and I was feeling discouraged so decided it would be best to dispose of the eggs.

This morning, Finley walked in with an egg in hand and said, "There's something inside this egg. I can hear something when I shake it." Fresh eggs don't make noises, I thought. "Where did you find it?" I asked as I took the egg and shook it. Something was definitely sloshing around in there. "On the floor of the chicken coop." Oh. I could picture the partially developed embryo slapping up against the sides of the egg, and it made me a little sick. "I want to see what's inside." Finley said.

After explaining what I thought had happened, she still wanted to see what was inside the egg. It's funny to me how her curiosity can overcome her sensitive spirit at times. Although I wasn't too keen on seeing its innards, I donned my boots and out we went to crack the egg. The shell broke nicely off the embryonic sac and it took a little effort to tear it open enough to free the tiny little chicken that would have hatched in about a week.

Life is bizarre.

Memorial Day Weekend

It's been a productive weekend. Friday, we finished reorganizing and cleaning the playroom and kids' room. That was no small feat. I had been trying get it done for three days, but it took Chris getting home early and lending a hand to get it finished.

Yesterday, while Chris caulked and painted some of the house, I took the old truck topper frame and wrapped it in fencing to provide a chicken run for the birds destined for slaughter.

I feel a little like the witch in Hansel and Gretel, feeding the chickens as much as they want to eat, hoping they won't catch on to my plan and thy to escape. I have to be honest, I had a dream last night that I was cleaning the guts out of a butchered chicken and started dry-heaving. I hope that isn't a bad sign.

Today, Chris and I worked some more on the house, hanging the ceiling joists for the front porch and finishing the siding on the front. This little guy hung out with us the whole time:

One thing I am thankful for is that Chris has the patience to paint, because I don't have a whole lot.

 Another thing I am thankful for is having kids that are old enough to take care of themselves and each other while we are busy working on the house.

We're getting a lot closer to having the outside of the house finished. It felt good to get back into the swing of things.

The tools are put away for the day now, and we're all kickin' back, waiting for the race to start. Tomorrow we relax and grill and take go-karts rides around the farm.

Life is complicated

It's Friday morning. Joe is sick with whatever Finley just got over, and in spite of a runny nose, I've just come in from spending a little time in the garden.

This morning, I planted some watermelon seed that Joe insisted I buy and some pie pumpkin seed saved from the fall. Together with the Pennsylvania Dutch Crookneck Squash (my favorite variety of butternut), I'm sure the garden will be overrun with vines, but who cares? I have completely given up on having the ultimate, practical garden plan until the house is done. The water is on the garden now, since we're not expecting rain any time soon. I think I need a new sprinkler, because the oscillating one I have keeps getting stuck. I just set out one of those clicky, revolving types on a T-post, but it isn't watering too evenly... What to do?

I do need to get my sour-dough going again, though. Tomatoes are on the way, and there's nothing better than a tomato sandwich on sour-dough.

The deeper we get into this raising chickens thing, the more complicated it seems to get. I am very tired of the extra chickens running around and crowding my feet, so I had planned to gather the ones I wanted to butcher into the chicken tractor to fatten them up. In order to do that, I wanted to make a couple more nesting boxes for the big coop since my broody hens are taking up two of them, and some of my other chickens have started laying in the chicken tractor. (Sandbox hen moved to the tractor after the kids filled the sandbox up with water earlier this week. I kind of miss her.) When I went to refresh my memory on the proper nesting box size, I read that broody hens really should be separated since other hens tend to sneak onto her nest when she's out grabbing a bite to eat (which has happened) and the other chickens might try to kill the chicks when they hatch. Great. So, ideally, I need to try to move my broody hen out to the chicken tractor (at night, the book says... it didn't work last time I tried that during the day), but then where do I put the chickens I want to fatten up? I do have the frame of an old truck topper I could cover in netting or chicken wire to use, and though it might not be tall enough, it might just have to do...

And I think I've figured out how to build the plucker, and just spent some money ordering plucking fingers, so I'm committed to this now. I can't just 'chicken out' and give them away on craigslist.

She Said She Meant To Write 'Best'

The Principal's Ride

This is what Mr. Delk, the pricipal at our kids' school drives: an old Dodge pickup that is repainted every year by a fourth-grade student. Last year, it was blue with Zebra stripes and the slogan, "Wild About CHES" written on the side.

I can't tell you how thankful I am to have our kids in school here.