Sweet Summertime

Here's the bullet - this summer really is a lovely one.

It's hot, which stinks. It rained a lot, and now there are a lot of mosquitoes, which also stinks. But here's the good news...

We have this amazing blessed life. We are really so blessed. Right now, in this moment, we are alive. We are here with the people we love. That is so huge. Doesn't get any better. Plus - 

The garden here grows like weeds. 

In fact, just about everything we drop in the ground just gets up and running, flowering and growing, with very little attention from me. I love that.

Meat grows well here, too, if a little more slowly than the last batch of Cornish Crosses. Freedom Rangers rock - they don't drop like flies in the heat, and they go outside on purpose to play. Today they are hovering near their fan, but occasionally a few will venture out into the heat in their fancy new yard. They are sucking down water like it's nothing. I'd get them an AC, but that seems extreme for food.

Third, batik scraps make excellent clothing. I also made a seersucker dress using the same pattern (Simplicity 2373, minus bias tape trim, which I got for a buck recently). It is too hot for clothing to touch my skin - unless it's light and cotton! 

Fourth, this is SALAD SEASON!  I’ve been trying some new-to-me salads out this week – perfect timing. I make a lot of modifications to recipes I find on the internet, or I create things all on my very own. Anything to avoid heating up my kitchen.

There’s a Chickpea Salad that I created out of my very own head after tasting something sort of similar when my father was in the hospital. I like mine better, of course. Recipe at the bottom of the post.

Then this Shredded Brussels Sprouts Salad – you may note that there is bacon in this, on the blog of the woman who says she does not eat pork? Well, I am not the only person who lives in this house, and some other residents like bacon. This is locally raised bacon from Wells Tavern Farm. It comes pretty dear, but their pork is the only pork I will allow in the house. I left out the kale on this one and went with just sprouts, which I happened to get a deal on. 

This is a new one for me - a lovely Lemon Green Bean and feta salad – delicious! I left out the agave, and used oregano from outside my front door.

And this Quinoa Salad with Apricots and (NOT) Pistachios? Love it. But with pepitas, not pistachios. And I was out of mirin, so I used pomegranate molasses. And I left out the mint and the paprika.

Fifth, I was all ready to head out on an airplane to fetch home a tiny baby BooBoo (a girl BooBoo I thought), but then God (you can call it what you want, for me it's God) stepped in and handed us Bradley.

And Bradley is amazing. He's clever, obedient, loving, and about as loyal as... well... as loyal as Yoshi. If you have food, you are his best friend. If you have head rubs, you are his best friend. If you have a frisbee, a ball, or a swimming pool? You are TOTALLY his best friend! But he's all dog, like a dog should be. Head on your knee, soaking wet and muddy paws all over my car, chasing the cotton-tailed bunny around the chicken house three times before you can catch him DOG. And we adore him. At six o'clock this morning my bedroom erupted in bedlam - the joyful sound of two dogs playing riotously. There they were - the snotty, spoiled Shiba and the down and dirty All-American Golden Retriever - bowing, jumping, leaping as if they'd been brothers forever. He's the yin to the yang. Or the yang to the yin. Either way, he's the balance point.

He is not a dog I would have chosen. I said that to my vet. I generally avoid adult dogs as re-home/rescue prospects. They can come with so many issues. Bradley either has no issues, or he has issues that so totally fit in our family that they just blend in with all of our issues and make one big happy issue. I also never choose widely and easily available breeds. I also avoid any breed that has ever starred in a movie. Yup. Now you know. I am a total dog snob. Mongrels can be awesome, and if the right one came along we'd be buds for life. But in lieu of the perfect mutt, I choose purebreds, and I choose them carefully. I usually do a ton of research, match personalities against our own and against any dogs we have in the home, and make a choice that benefits everyone. Because I am, as we all know, TOTALLY in charge of the WHOLE WORLD, and this is THE most effective way to exert my all-knowing POWER over...

Oh, sorry. Where was I? Oh yeah. So. It turns out that my "all-knowing amazing" skill at dog selection? It wasn't necessary. Because God gave us Bradley. I was looking in the wrong direction.

Truth is, I do not have the time or energy or mental fortitude to handle a puppy right now. At least not the way I do puppy - have you seen my dog's blog? Puppy here is a total focus, 24/7/365, lifestyle thing. It lasts for about 12 months or more depending on the dog - in the case of a big dog, it's usually more. I would have thrown myself in, and done it, too. But it wasn't what we needed right now.

My vet said I got very, very lucky. My vet said "He's amazing". My vet said "It's not about who they are on the outside. It's about who they are on the inside." My vet is smarter than I am. 

Thank God for grace and gut. I knew the minute I saw him, spinning in circles in the front yard of his former home, with Yoshi obnoxiously growling and snapping under him, that he was ours. I went with that gut feeling, and we agreed to a sleepover to see how things went. Twelve hours later I wouldn't have let him go back for anything. Two weeks in, and he and Yoshi are raising hell around my bed at six in the morning - roughhousing, playing, living - and all I can think is "What did we do before Bradley came here?"

Look around you, take a long deep breath and breathe it all in. It's summer. It won't last forever, and it doesn't have to. Tomorrow can take care of itself. Be in the now, because that's where it's at my friends. Now is where it's at.

MMO's Summer Chickpea Salad

1 big (29 oz) can of chickpeas (or 4 cups rehydrated, cooked chickpeas)

1 bunch scallion, chopped fine

1 red pepper, chopped fine

½ cup dried cranberries

----------

¼ cup extra virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons red wine vinegar

2 teaspoons cumin

1 tablespoon parsley

Kosher salt

Fresh ground pepper

Combine last 6 ingredients in large bowl. You can be fussy and start with the acid and spices and then add the oil slowly, whisking to emulsify, or you can just dump and mix. I've done both and it tasted the same either way! Add drained and rinsed or cooled and rinsed beans, scallions, red pepper and cranberries. Mix well and eat - although it's better a few hours later! 

Chicken Play Gym

(with death and mayhem at the end of the post)

I love my birds. This is probably not new news. The fact that I sometimes eat them in no way diminishes that love. In fact, it may enhance it.

Witness the chicken play gym:

This is also an Ikea hack - I used part of the old gate (it was double wide door from the old dog yard, but I only used a single wide gate when the fence was dismantled, moved, and rebuilt for chickens instead of dogs). I added two Gorm shelves for fun, and two plastic plant pots to lift the whole thing up off the ground a little. There's also a 2x4 bracing the Gorm shelves at the base to give some stability. Will it last the whole year? Who knows. For now, they seem to like it.

It even got the Old Lady Stamp of Approval from Pet!

I think if you have to be a chicken it probably does not stink to be one here. Unless you come with "MEAT BIRD" or "SURPLUS ROOSTER" stamped on your head, in which case you'll have a really great life and then it will end in a blaze of glory on the edge of my blade. But unless or until that happens, life is good...

I'll even let you peck my toes if you want. For now. If you turn out to be a hen, you'll get away with the toe thing for a few years until you go out of lay (stop laying eggs). If you're an errant rooster, maybe not so much. Time will tell if I let you stay or not.

We processed birds this weekend. The next images are from processing. I am not going to shy away from blood, but I am also not going to glorify it. If you're squeamy, stop here and run from the room. There is one picture involving blood. If you're curious, stick around. It's only a couple of shots, and not any of actually cleaning. I cannot, as of today, clean a bird and take pictures of myself at the same time. I am working on it, and as soon as I develop that second set of hands, you'll be the first to know. We set up in the backyard pretty early. Later than I wanted this time, but still early for a Saturday.

(From left to right: chill tank, plucking and evisceration tables, holding tank, plucker, electricity on a dolly, scalder)

It's really easy to set up here. When we had the electrical upgraded we asked the contractor to put in two outside outlets - one for winter to run cords for the bird's water heaters, and a second to run the plucker and scalder. Smartest thing ever. Second smartest - we moved the umbrella over to the cleaning and final plucking area so we wouldn't drop in the sun. And third - we recently had frost-free faucets installed, and asked our friend Walter if he could put one out there for hot water as well as cold.

That cuts the scalder heating time significantly! The equipment is from Featherman. I treated myself a few years ago to a Featherman Set-Up Special that included the plucker, scalder, kill cones (some people call them restraining cones, but since I put birds in them to kill them that seems slightly disingenuous) with stand. There was also a catch basin for blood, and a dunker, neither of which we ever used. We sold the dunker at a tag sale, and I have no clue where the basin went. I prefer my orange Homer bucket from Home Depot.
The birds are caged up the day before slaughter, generally about 18 hours before I think I'll be ready. In my perfect world I would have proper confinement coops for them that would restrict their ability to get up and over each other. They're not cheap, but they're awesome. For now we use old rabbit cages.

I don't want to stress them with prolonged confinement, but I also don't want their crops full of food. It's harder to clean them, and makes it more likely that there could be contamination of the carcass with crop contents or fecal matter. I do catch the meat birds during the day. They are slow by the time we process, and it's easier for me to get them when the sun is out - it also means I can get closer to that 18 hour point.

This batch included three old Buckeyes; one rooster and two hens. This is called a cull, when birds that are no longer laying or are just not useful to my long-term plans are pulled from the laying flock and slaughtered. I do not waste them. Although they're three years old, they still cook up - it just takes longer. I slow cook them generally for a whole day, until the meat falls off of the bones. The meat is intensely flavorful, and the texture is not something most modern mouths are used to - perfect fricassee though!

The rooster went first. Because he's used to being at liberty with the laying flock, and because he's a full-grown rooster with all the chicken-y testosterone that entails, he was alarming everyone else and generally stressing out the meat birds waiting to be killed. Not fun for anyone. Generally freaking out and head stomping your cage mates is just not a good idea.

He started my day off with a bang by taking a huge chomp out of my hand when I tried to get him into the cone. In the end, I always win, but I am not above tolerating the birds trying. In fact, I figure I deserve every brutal peck, violent wing flap, or big scratch that I get on slaughter day. I have it coming, so I take it on the chin.

This whole process is about paying a price - I pay a price for consumption of animal protein. It costs me money and time to rear them, and it costs me some physical discomfort on slaughter day, and it costs me mentally every time I use that knife. Responsible living should be a little uncomfortable at times. But it feels better in my heart and in my head to know that I paid the price for this. I know exactly how they lived and exactly how they died. I know they had ventilation, exercise, sunshine and safe, healthy food - and gallons upon gallons of fresh, clean water. They haven't been stuffed with hormones or drugs, and they get a fan in their house when the temperatures go up. Their bedding is cleaned every week to few days, depending on how badly they stink. Buying meat in a store has become very uncomfortable for me. Buying poultry in a store can make me downright weepy - and no, I am not kidding! Having to buy turkey because I don't have space to grow it is an ethical and moral dilemma. If I could farm all of my own meat, I would. For now, processing my own chicken for food is the biggest dent I can make in my quest for responsible consumption of animal protein.

At the end of the day everything is scrubbed to within an inch of our lives, dried, and put away for next time. The birds are put on ice (literally). Some are cut into pieces, ala grocery store. Some are frozen whole. The livers, hearts, necks and lungs are sometimes saved for Yoshi although sometimes we eat them ourselves (that is to say we may eat hearts, livers and necks... I don't eat lungs!)

Yoshi spends the day inside, and when we bring him out for potty after slaughtering is over he makes a beeline, dragging us along, to the spot where the killing cones were set up. Then he sniffs in a meandering line from the cones to the spots where the scalder, plucker, tables and chill tank were. Then he stares meaningfully up at me, whines, and begs. I relent and give him some delicious bit I've saved out for him.

Now his interest in the live chickens is high. Very high. Draggin'-Daddy-along-Momma-please-give-me-a-WHOLE-chicken-NOW high. This usually passes in a few days. We all hope so, or it's going to be a long life for Yoshi. Live chickens are pretty important around here, just as important as the dead ones!

WAY Too Stimulating

My life right now is just beyond exciting. I will show you - you might want to sit down, because this is ONE. WILD. RIDE.

I check up on chickens, and make sure the big kids are not killing the little kids.

Luckily the little kids are smart enough to lay low.

I gave them a hiding spot behind the nest boxes, so they can avoid confrontation with their elders. The elders are cranky. I don't let birds out in the rain, and I wanted to give the little kids time to adjust to the space before I let them out into the yard, so they would know where home is. The big birds are acting a lot like seven grown humans might, if trapped in a confined one-room space with 25 "tweens".

I compare meat to baby eggs...

and meat to grown-up eggs.

I check on my pansy bowl...because I love pansies.

and I watched Gene putting in the air conditioner in our bedroom, even though it's in the 50's this weekend.

Very stimulating stuff, right? Let me tell you, I know how to have a wild time. I also watch the baby BLUE eggs to make sure their heat lamp is neither too low nor too high.

And I check on my pond and count my fish, every single day.

If it were any more exciting around here, I'd be watching paint dry.

Today I bought patterns and fabric to make a couple of things for grand "baby" April - mostly in pink because when I called her and asked which she'd prefer, pink or blue, she chose pink. Sale fabric, you know! I am also knitting Owlie socks for daughter in law #1. They are adorable. I love the pattern, and now Girl wants some too. The yarn is Buffalo Wool Co. "Tracks" - love it! 

They're a lot further along than this now. As for Girl, well. We'll see. After this I have some design stuff to take care of; just right now I have been preoccupied with other life stuff (there's a story there, but it's not my story to tell, so you'll just have to wonder) and needed a diversion, so DIL #1 gets socks! 

Tomorrow is Memorial Day. The Y is closed, so no Monday swim, which could cause me to go into some sort of chlorine withdrawal. I hope it's warm and sunny so I can go for a bike ride or something, at least. Yesterday and last night some places in the region had SNOW. I heard there was 34" of it in upstate New York somewhere - you read that right, thirty four inches! I didn't stay up to see if we would get any; it was due after 11pm. I just crawled into bed and whined endlessly about being cold. I was rewarded with extra blankets from Mr. Wonderful - which either indicates empathy, or a desire for me to shut the heck up and go to sleep, and stop howling about my ice-cold nose. Here's hoping this evening brings some warmer temperatures, and maybe tomorrow some sunshine! 

Whole New World

Tonight I enacted phase one of the Chicken Unification Project. I cut a hole in the wall between the layer babies and the big birds. Tomorrow I will add some framing and a little door that latches. That way if the youth become obstreperous, I can give the grown-ups privacy. It will be a few more days before I let them all outside together.

 These things can go well or they can go badly, depending on the birds involved. A too-forward young bird can put himself at risk of life and limb by pecking off more than he can reasonably "chew". 

But a little girl might think more about the possibilities and take her time before rushing in.

There's usually a little awe on both sides.

Well. Maybe more awe on one side than the other...there's a lot to look up to when you're only four inches tall.

I left the babies to their adjusting and took a look about; just a short ramble in the yard. I love pansies and johnny jump-ups. I find them unreasonably cheerful. They never fail to make me smile.

I especially love these little peach and lavender ones.

When I headed back into the "barn", I saw that everyone had discovered the door, and all were jockeying for position. Things look to be going very well, and by morning maybe they won't need a door that latches. This would be good because I need to clean out the meat birds barn. AND I am not sure I have the right scraps to make a frame for a door. And I really don't relish a 7am trip to town for lumber scraps.

When my mother died, Katy's Tribe gave me a gift certificate for a memorial plant from Wanczyk Nursery. I had a really hard time deciding what to get. I went last year in search of something, but came away empty handed. Two weeks ago Gene and I went back, and I found exactly what I wanted. A very mature plain old lilac; Syringa vulgaris. 

 

And already it has blooms. My mother loved spring things; forsythia, lilac, and especially lily of the valley which grow in abundance around my front door already. The blooms are a token of good things to come in the ensuing years, I think.

Finally, last but not at all least, on Saturday we enhanced our brood by 6. One did not survive, but here are 5 sweet tiny Ameraucanas who one day will grow big and lay lovely blue-green eggs! 

I love spring. It brings new life, promise and hope. Hope is almost my most favorite thing of all! 

The Trouble With Blogging

I have no stunning, amazing pictures. I can tell you that I've rearranged the baby chicken space to get ready for incoming Ameraucanas that should be here by Thursday, but do you really want to see a picture of a barn? I could tell you that I expanded the meat birds space because they are huge and filthy, but do you really want to see a picture of big smelly meat chickens?

 (this was a couple of days ago - the meat birds are bigger than this now.)

I could tell you I've planted 7 weeping forsythia and one Bloomerang lilac, and mulched anything that looked like it wanted it, and weeded and trimmed and, last night, covered to protect from frost a wide range of plants. But there's no pictures of me digging holes and trimming back branches.

Don't feel bad - Yoshi's bored, too. I promised him a walk today as compensation for my lack of presence in his space in the last few days. But it's SPRING! Time to dig holes and play in the dirt and rearrange chickens!

(Buff Brahmas and Delawares with a sneaky thing back left)

I wish I could say I've been more productive. I could, for example, post this picture:

And then tell you that I did these in the evenings after all the gardening. The truth is I did these ages ago, and just took a picture to show Girl so she could start her own pile. In the evenings I mostly knit handwarmers. It started with Fetching from Knitty a long time ago. After the first pair I bought 5 more skeins of different colors of RYC Cashsoft Aran, intending to make a plethora of them in 2007. "Great Christmas gifts!" I thought. When we moved it was a bit of stash I could not part with. I just KNEW I would make five more Fetching. And I even have the receipt to prove it - March 1, 2007!

I started the other day and made it through two before I got bored - WAIT! Not bored... well, bored but... I LOVE this pattern, do not get me wrong, but I NEVER reknit things. If I reknit it, it's GOOD. I have made 3 pair of Fetching, which means that's a really good pattern. But after two back to back I needed a change, so I switched them up and changed stitch counts and superimposed different stitch patterns.

I could post a picture of my back yard with ridiculous long grass - it was finally cut yesterday...

Or of a recipe I entered recently in a contest (cross your fingers!)...

(Second time I've ever entered a recipe in something - really hope I do well!)

Or of my favorite hen, Pet, a Jersey Giant of some three or four years old...

Or my favorite rooster, a little Silkie who's adorableness helped him escaped the ax in the last cull...

OR we could play a rousing game of "Guess the Breed" with the grab bag chicks:

Polish - White Crested Black and Silver Laced

Appenzeller Spitzhauben

Possibly Gold Penciled Hamburg. More will be revealed.

Either the biggest Gold Laced Wyandottes I've ever seen, or who knows!

Or...or I could just head back outdoors again and see what there is to dig or feed or plant or trim or grow. You know, I think that's the best idea I've had all morning!