One Month and Not Much to Say Except Buk-AWWK!

It has been super busy here. It is spring and spring is always crazy. Chickens, gardens, project, and some work now and then as well. First, 95 baby chickens came from Sandhill Preservation. I ordered 50, but got very lucky and instead of a refund for the excess shipping I paid, I got bonus baby chickens instead. I'd ordered meat birds and layers. Man do I have meat birds and layers.

There they are, still in their shipping box. Sometimes people are amazed when I explain how they come. They come in the mail. I pay extra for express shipping but you can use priority, too. I like them to spend as little time in transit as possible. Now, I wasn't exactly prepared for so many, and I spent a quick morning running around gathering supplies, assuming I had 36 hours before they arrived. Wrong. The call confirming shipment was at around 7pm. They arrived the next day at 11am. We had no power as a result of a kicking spring storm. The babies were cold. They needed to be warm. 90-95 degrees warm, which is usually accomplished with a heat lamp.

Instead we pulled the stock tank I use for brooding babies in front of the woodstove and fired it up. I don't think this house has ever been so hot. We managed to keep them around 80-85 degrees. It's where they should have been, but it had to be close enough. As we headed into evening, still with no power, I became anxious for them. Really anxious. And the launch of Toe-Up 2-at-a-Time Socks was the next day. The idea of spending the night with an alarm clock every hour or so to wake me so I could check chicks and stuff the stove had no appeal. In the eleventh hour, just as the sun was setting and the temperature in the house was dropping, and I was beginning to berate myself and Poor Gene for not forging ahead sooner with the solar panels, the power came back on. I set the babies up in the mudroom with their lamp and headed for bed.

I needed to be rested for my party at Webs! Kathy gave me an wonderful introduction that made me get a little bleary.

My father would say this is genetic. We cry at everything. Hangnails, kleenex commercials, birthday parties, you name it. I talked for a while, a little about chickens and a little more about knitting. I sipped some champagne, and I signed some books.

Oh look. A rare image of me with my MOUTH OPEN. How surprising (sensing sarcasm? You'd be right). It was a wonderful evening. Friends were there, which always makes happiness, and knitters too! One friend brought me two of these:

Coolest. Chicken feeders. EVER. Now we're all stylin' with our vintage kit! I love the feeders. They are super heavy duty, and big. I am going to need big feeders around here. I have a lot of chickens. 140 I think. It's hard to count. They move so fast. And they grow so fast. Fluffy little babies change into little kids...

there they are at two weeks old, feathers popping out all over. The only way to get pictures is to corner them and snap away.

Or scare them by putting them on a child. That is my granddaughter April, for whom a pair of socks in the new book are named. Everyone say "Awww!!". Tack on a "My Gosh, Melissa, she's beautiful!" for extra points. Not that I am biased or anything. Tell me either of the grand kids are beautiful or handsome or amazing or brilliant and you've got me. The chicks sit still when terrified or small human fingers, for a minute anyway. It's effective.
There's a lot of them. And more even now, because somewhere in there I agreed to give hatching eggs to a local elementary school's first grade class. I had this great plan to separate a rooster and some hens specifically for meat birds, but time got away from me so in the end I sent along 18 random eggs from the previous day's batch. 21 incubating days went by like a shot, and in the end nine more babies were added to the farm a week or so ago. I know that they have one of four fathers. I know that they have one of 28 mothers. Beyond that, no clue what they'll look like. They'll lay if they're girls, and will go down well if they're boys. That's all I know.

I have completely lost track at this point of how old who is and so on. I think these guys are now two weeks old. I call them the gang of nine. Today we finished the last chicken room in the barn. It was clean for about five minutes before I started moving babies in.

MMmmm! I love laying down in it when it's like this. It never stays this clean for long. Eventually feathered people move in, and things change. Poop flies. Food gets scattered.

Feather dust fills the air. But for a moment it's heavenly. I love that they have this whole huge space now and all they want to do is lay in the sun. They're very funny. I don't know how many are in this room now. I lost count. The only time to really count them is at night.

I tried counting them while I was moving them, but some jumped out of the can after being counted and others jumped in, so I just filled the can and moved them. No counting. The purple tail is a bird who's been nipping excessively at it's own butt as the big feathers grow in. It's itchy. Grown up feathers are not like baby pin feathers.

There are just so many of them. I think I am slightly unhinged at times, considering this. 140 is a really lot of chickens. They're everywhere. And they've grown. Now just a month old, these are the same baby chicks from the picture at the top of the post, the sweet fuzzy babies in a cardboard box. Now they're gawky teenagers. Now plucking order is established. Bullies come to the fore. Adorableness occurs in new ways.

The environment is fully explored. Boys begin to act a bit more like boys. Girls begin to be a bit more retiring and shy. Nothing is set in stone until someone crows. But I begin to notice things.

The gang of nine has been mixed in with some of the smaller 4-week old chicks. I separated them by size - bigger birds in the big new room. Smaller guys in the small room. It works. The integration went very well. I had concerns. One of the little guys, named Meatball by the first graders, will not shut up about the change but everyone else is pleased. Meatball may be, possibly, a bit of a whiner. He'll get sorted soon enough.

This is Celia, in a rare appearance out from behind the nest boxes. Celia is an old girl, about ten. She's a Silkie hen that Meg got somewhere along the line. Although Silkies are known for making great pets, Celia is a complete and utter freak. She lives by the rule "Always Flight". No fight or flight for her. RUN. PANIC! Note the 4x4 I put down to ensure she has access to food during the day while the big chickens are out on range. We worry about her a lot. If she gets out, she sometimes will not come in. I occasionally use her as an Auntie for chicks who are too young to go out yet. If nothing else, I know she's safe inside for a while. She makes a great auntie. I keep saying I am going to give her some eggs someday and let her hatch them.

Well, that's it for now from the farm side of things. There's also been a lot of planting, watching of hives and there has even been some knitting, and a whole lot of writing about knitting. I may be able to post some projects in a couple of days that aren't related to any book, and therefore can make an appearance. I get into baby things between projects. One might even say obsessed with baby things. They're like socks; a palate cleanser, portable, fast. I am not knitting any socks right now - crazy, huh? - because I have three sock projects in the works that are "work". Time for more of that on Tuesday! For now, I will enjoy the day as it passes by planting more things and checking in on my 140 feathered charges and the 100,000 winged ones. Have a wonderful holiday weekend!

Nah-Ta-Reevu!

This morning's sky. Lovely. And a promise. No review today, unless you consider a recap of the last few weeks of my life a review. I guess technically that is a review. But let's pretend it's not.
First, the knitting. I finished some things, or added to some things underway.This is a collection of baby socks that I occasionally pick up when I am at odds or unsure of what to begin next. They are made from the leftovers of socks I've knitted previously. I've decided to start taking pictures of them when there's a bunch and add it to the ongoing project I keep tabs on at Ravelry.
Just before Rhinebeck I decided to knit myself something for the predicted cold out of the qiviut I bought last year.I decided on Ice Queen from Knitty, and I adore it!The beads sit there like water droplets. The pattern is simple and worked up fast, making it a supreme gift idea (hmmm...and Webs has all that Misti Alpaca Lace in the warehouse, and beads right next door).
I also knit up a pair of Sweet Fern Mitts from The Knitter's Book of Wool.There is some errata in the first printing of this book,, so be sure to check here if you decide to knit a pair. The yarn is Foxfire Fiber Cormo Silk Alpaca. The color I use here is not available on the website, but the yarn is just amazing in any color! Luscious. I adore them, regardless, and recommend you give them a knit. Fast and warm and seasonally perfect! I also knitted a hat that more or less matches by using a 2:2 rib and Clara's cable pattern.I also finished two pair of socks, both in STR Heavyweight, one for Gene and one for Selina (who-is-engaged-to-our-oldest-kid-hallelujah)Selina's are Blue Brick Wall.Gene's are a mill end I grabbed at Sock Summit.
By far the biggest news around here involves my birds, their future, energy independence and our future, and the answer I get to give from now on when someone says "So you live on a farm?" Up until now I've always said "No, not really." That's about the change. Bee hives and 30+ birds with plans to breed them, plus a barn that should be up by Thanksgiving makes me think that it's time to call ourselves a farm. If everything goes according to plan, please God, next spring or summer we will cover the roof of the new barn with solar panels, so that not only our water is heated by the sun, but our computers, fridge, dvd player, etc are all powered by the sun as well. I think I've said here before that this is a fond lifelong dream, to transition from fossil fuel to sun or wind. The farm is a dream as well. I always thought a farm was in my future, I just lost hope for a while. For now, there will be chickens, and lots of them. Out of the birds we grew this spring, we carefully selected four boys to continue on and help us breed up a bigger flock come next year of both layers and meat birds. I'll introduce them to you now - they have no names yet, only personalities:FIrst, The Bully. A Cuckoo Maran who has only one real wife, but given his size will be allowed to help me build meat birds from some of the other hens. He's got an attitude, and goes after other cockerels.
Next is The Wimp. He's a Blue Jersey Giant, although more Splash in appearance. He's only got one true mate as well, but we'll mix him with some of the bigger hens for meat birds as well. He's the boy the Maran goes after the most often, and he screams like a girl when he's caught.
Then there's The Jock. A Black Dorking cockerel, also with only one real wife. He's smart as a whip, fast on his feet, predator saavy at a young age. He never sits still.And last but not least, The One Who Slides By. I am not sure why. I can't figure out if the other boys don't know he's a boy or what, but somehow he manages to not get into fights, not mix it up with the other boys. He's a Black Australorp and he's got a bunch of wives.
My eternal thanks to Sandhill Preservation who have once again outdone themselves with these birds. Although I've been largely unmoved by the Rhode Island Reds - and this is due in large part to a deep RIR bias I developed in the first year of our chicken growing adventure - all of the other breeds that came in our box have proven to be amazing. I feel so good about these birds. If you're thinking about chickens and live in a place where you can grow out cockerels, I can't recommend Sandhill enough. Al their chicks are straight run, which means boys and girls. I believe a rooster is good for hens, and everyone who has birds should, if they possibly can, have a boy around the place. I also think chicken sexing (yes, there is such a thing) is pretty inhumane, and not something I personally choose to support. I'd rather grow them out, make my choices, and put the boys I am not keeping in my freezer. It feels better to me that my boys are used for something, not just killed at hatch for having the wrong chromosome. Anyway...
Come spring we'll play mix and match, breed up some "true" chicks from the three who've only got one wife a piece, and some "mixed" chicks for meat. We are now, in my heart, officially a poultry farm. The state won't believe that until we do a lot of paperwork and sell $1,000 worth of eggs and honey. I can wait. It's enough to have it in my heart. It makes me so happy, so very happy to see this coming to fruition.
Now, don't tell Mr. Wonderful, but I have another little plan in mind. Just a small thing, really. Not a big deal. I thought a couple of these, maybe 2 of these and one of these to watch over them. This may take more time. But no worries. I can be patient. If I can wait 42 years for a farm and 34 for solar, I can wait a couple more for sheep!

Solar Monday, with a Recipe

Today is a wonderful day. Today I realize the beginning of a dream harbored since I was in fourth grade and learned about renewable energy.Today the first phase of Operation Go Solar or Go Home (I know, how original, right?) begins. By the end of this week, the hot water that flows into my sink will have been heated by the sun. The concept captivated me. Energy from the sun, the wind, the water. Even as a kid I understood that there was something wrong with fuel that hurt the planet as much as oil, coal and nuclear power do. I live near a nuclear power plant, and now that they are here I think we owe it to the planet and the future to use them and not walk away, leaving potential disaster and waste behind. But I certainly don't think we need more. I'm not a huge fan of water power either, although as a child it was drilled into us that hydroelectric was the way of the future. Of course the propaganda for a local hydro plant had, I am sure, nothing to do with that. The river which used to freeze over every year near my home town doesn't any more. To deny the relationship between these two plants and that fact is to bury your head in the sand. The environmental impact of the two plants is also documented.The fish have to have help to get from place to place in the form of fish ladders, and some species have disappeared from these waters altogether. I know that solar and wind come with their own bugaboos; making panels and wind turbines involves chemicals and processes that are less than earth-friendly. But once they're up they rely on nothing more than sun or wind to make power. That, to me, makes sense. I let the sun dry my clothes. Why not let it heat my water, or power my laptop? After years of debate and decision making we've finally started a process that I hope and pray will end in energy independence for this household. Our heat will come from the trees around us. Our lights will be powered by solar panels, and our water will be heated the same way. Eventually I hope my car will be electric, and powered by the panels that will one day power my dvd player and my washing machine.Yes, I cried when I took this. Yes, it's that important to me. Important enough that I will sacrifice to make this happen. I wish it was that important to the whole world.
Last week we got our 1/4 cow for the year. We eat vegetarian for most of the week, but no one here is ready to give up their meat. Trouble is, the disturbing nature of the meat industry has led me to believe strongly that our meat should be as non-conformist as possible. That usually also means expensive, and so we eat less - or more accurately, we now consume a more rational amount of protein from animals. This year's contribution/sacrifice comes from a cow known as Montana, whom I've known since calf-hood. I know where they live, what they eat, how they're cared for. I've talked about this here before, so I don't need to go all soap-boxy on you now. Suffice to say this is a cow I can feel good about. So good that we had beef twice this week; rather of a rarity. The first event was on Tuesday when the meat arrived. After picking it up I became obsessed with the idea of having a steak, large, sirloin and right now, and so we did. Later in the week I had an odd craving for burgers. By then everything was frozen, but my craving wasn't willing to wait for slow thawing. I turned to my microwave, that trusty pal of mine. Everything went well for the first bit; most of the burger was thawed and I began to make patties, popping the remainder back in to finish thawing. I was in a hurry to get to the grilling part, so just pushed any old number on the 'weight defrost' button. I think I selected 32 pounds or something close to it and went on with my making of patties, oblivious. Great choice for 3/4 of a pound of ground beef, right? So here's my solution for 3/4 of a pound of excessively defrosted (read cooked...) ground beef. I call it:
The Impatient Carnivore's Burger Soup

1 tsp kosher salt
6 cranks coarsely ground black pepper
2 tsp Herbes de Provence (use our own or my super secret recipe follows)
1/2 tsp bay leaf
2 beef bouillon cubes
1 yellow onion, chopped
1 red pepper, chopper
1 green pepper chopped
4-5 medium sized carrots, scrubbed and roughly chopped
6 cloves of garlic minced
1 can diced tomatoes
2 cans vegetable broth
2-3 T high-temp tolerant oil of choice (I like peanut)
1/2-3/4 pound of crumbled accidentally-overcooked-while-defrosting-in-the-microwave ground beef, preferably from a cow you knew personally. Can substitute 1/2 -3/4 lb of plain old ground beef.

If you don't use accidentally cooked beef, start by cooking it up. In a large, high sided skillet add 1T oil. Heat until hot, then add hamburger, stirring often, until cooked through. Remove from heat and drain in colander to remove fat. Make sure beef is crumbled. Set aside.

If you screwed up and killed the stuff in the microwave, just drain it and crumble it and set aside.

In a heavy bottomed stock pot pour 2 T oil. Heat on high until almost smoking. Add salt, onion, carrot and peppers. Stir to prevent sticking, reduce heat just enough to keep it from burning. Cook, stirring often, 4-5 minutes or until onion is soft and translucent. Add minced garlic, pepper, Herbes de Provence, and bay leaf. Cook 2-3 minutes on medium high heat. Add vegetable broth, tomatoes with their juices, drained and crumbled ground beef. Reduce temperature until soup is simmering. Cook until carrots are almost tender (I like mine to have a bit of crunch). Serve in Malea's soup bowls with a handful of leftover tortilla chips from the weekend.

Yummy, really! If you give it a try, let me know how it works for you. I really love it and so does Girl. Mr. Wonderful doesn't get any until dinner. Girl and I just couldn't resist, it smelled so good we had to have it for lunch!

MMO's Herbes de Provence, which is sort of an amalgam of a variety of recipes:
2 T each: Rosemary, Basil, Thyme, Savory, Fennel Seed
1 T Lavender
Place all in spice jar, shake well to combine.