Tuesday, November 29, 2011

It's interesting to note...

that of the 18 eggs I've gotten in the 29 days of November so far:
 Every single one of them has come from Skippy, my White Leghorn hen:
Each one consistently weighs in at an impressive 2.75 ounces:
That's right, Skippy, you're my star:
Even if you do have dirty feet:
Considering this little gal is almost four years old and it's at a time of year when most chickens' egg laying slows significantly due to less light and molting, she continues to be an amazing producer:
And as for the rest of you slackers...yes, that means you, Princess:

And all you girls who have become nest box sleepers instead of nest box layers...(Dottie, Bippity, Spongebob and Thumper!!!):
Every one of you needs to take a lesson from Skippy.

So, keep up the good work, Skippa-doo. You're the only girl standing between me and a carton of those nasty, pale, tasteless store-bought eggs.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

It's the little things

Shy (a.k.a."Don't-touch-me!") Clyde finally let me pet him today:
His fur is so soft.  He felt amazing:
 I couldn't ask for anything more today.  :-)

Happy Thanksgiving from all of us on Critter Farm!

Monday, November 21, 2011

Pssst! You there...

Guess what?: I got into something today I shouldn't have:   It was delicious, but my farm girl said it was nasty:And she made me wash my face:That's ok, though, because once my face was clean, I was allowed on the couch for my afternoon nap:And shhhhhh.... tomorrow, I know straight where to go for the good stuff:

Sunday, November 20, 2011


 It's that time again. Time when boots are a necessity and coats are required-wear for trips to the barn:
This means for everyone:
My farm pup, Roxy, is once again insisting on going out with me for morning and evening feedings. To me, this is a happy indication that her leg is (finally) recovering. Clearly, this is a girl who thrives on strategically placing herself in the center of things:
It's as if she understands how important our daily barn time is:
For me, this is the time that soothes and grounds me - and helps me to work out things in my head. Yes, even the poop-picking-up part is beneficial:
Clyde, who continues to maintain at least an arm's distance from all humans, enjoys the morning barn time, too, and will frequently observe the activities from his perch between the stalls:
With the weather turning colder, everyone is hungrier...
George and Clyde now look forward to a morning tuna treat on the front porch:
If I happen to leave Kai llama's grain bin open and unattended for the shortest of moments...:
she doesn't hesitate to help herself:
I had to break ice on the stock tank this morning. It got down to 25 degrees last night:
This gave me a bit of a jolt beause I realized -suddenly- that it's actually late fall already. See this spot of earth? This is where my garlic should be planted in the ground by now:

Want to know where my garlic is instead? Why, it's right here, of course...:
Hanging in my pantry:
Go ahead, guess what I'll be doing this week.

With the shift in seasons, I feel my urge growing to be in the kitchen again. I've baked 3 different types of bread and my first chocolate pecan pie in the last week:
The pie was magnificent but the best part of this recipe is that I've been introduced to the most perfect pie crust. It may sound silly but, for me, this is an incredibly empowering feeling. Personally, I feel that everyone should know how to make a perfect pie crust.

Given how inclement our weather has been so far, I have a feeling I'm going to have a lot of time this winter to practice it.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Mass Exodus

There is a point in every day that is awaited with great anticipation:

The chicken joy that spills forth when I open the chicken run door:

...is a burst of quick, noisy and intense:

In a matter of seconds:

everyone disperses in separate directions:

...to scratch, peck, dig, dust bathe, chase, and explore:

Roopert the rooster is always the last to leave, observing and noting the direction each of his girls has gone:

But, of late, one hen hangs behind:

It's poor Cowgirl. She is in full molt and just stands around shivering:

I am hoping she doesn't lose too many more feathers. I worry about her keeping warm:

And her similarity to a plucked chicken is beginning to unnerve me a bit: