Total Eclipse of the Farm

 Bonnie Tyler’s song, “Total Eclipse of the Heart”, must have gone way up the play charts when the total solar eclipse enveloped Jackson County a few weeks ago in a spectacle we have never seen, nor will ever see again, in our lifetimes in this area. 

When the last total solar eclipse in the US happened in 2017, I remember thinking I had to get to the path of totality and drove 4 hours to Carbondale, Illinois. Watching people there was phenomenal - one guy completely covered himself in aluminum foil, I guess to protect himself from the “harmful” rays of the cosmic event. Another individual must have been trying to get in touch with his ancient Egyptian ancestors, as he was clad in full pharoah regalia complete with a crook and flail (items that these ancient rulers are typically shown carrying). 

When the time came for the moon to darken the sun, huge billowy clouds decided to largely obscure the event by moving right into place as the eclipse reached totality. There was a collective groan of disappointment as everyone realized that we would not be seeing the spectacle clearly in the sky. 

That disappointment was not to last though, when a gorgeous 360° sunset displayed during the time of totality on the horizon.

When the 2017 eclipse ended, there was definitely a traffic jam on my way back. I remember the trip taking about 12 hours, as opposed to the 4 that it took for me to get to Carbondale. 

What a difference 7 years makes.

The eclipse of 2024 was without driving, without aluminum foil and without any Egyptian royalty. This stellar event held more sentiment though as it involved around 40 chickens, 2 pot belly pigs, 4 geese, 6 ducks, a whole bunch of honey bees and some great friends to join in the festivities. 

The day felt like a holiday with many businesses closed to allow their employees to enjoy the event with their families or to avoid the predicted traffic that would follow the eclipse. Everyone was holding their breath for the weather, watching as the clouds in the morning gave way to brilliantly blue skies that afternoon. 

My biggest observation for this eclipse was being able to observe the animals as the light changed and it went to twilight. 

Not surprising, the chickens started to go into their coop as it became darker and then, right before totality, the chickens began filing back out into their yard. When the moon completed its shadowing of the sun, the birds completely froze in place. No pecking, no bwak bwak, no sound. 

The pot belly pigs also retreated into their barn to await the passing of the phenomena  as well as the geese and ducks freezing in place.

The small group of humans that had gathered with me ooo’ed and awww’ed as the period of darkness continued for a few minutes and I stood, barefooted, taking in as much of the sight as I could. 

When the sunlight returned, I remember feeling almost refreshed and at peace. The chickens resumed their normal poultry behavior, the geese began screech honking and the pigs moved back into their yard. The small group and I all reflected on what we had seen. 

I wanted that feeling of peace to last forever, but unfortunately we humans don’t always remember how to be nice to one another. However, for that one period of about 4 minutes, things seemed right in the world. Maybe one day we’ll keep that feeling beyond a cosmic event like an eclipse.. 

Until next time…

The Chicks in the Mail

 Springtime is one of my favorite seasons on the farm. The grass is so vibrantly green, fruit blossoms burst forth on the trees and even when storms come through, which has been pretty frequently as of late, the storm blue sky of an approaching thunder-boomer just makes all of the Spring colors pop. 

Spring is also the season of unpredictable temperatures as Mother Nature fights to regulate her moods; sometimes she’s warm and inviting and others she gives a cold shoulder and even tosses snowflakes around. 

It is also during this season that we farmers start to look forward to planting our crops and raise baby animals. Always with the hope that if the weather changes it isn’t too drastic of a shift. Nothing is more nerve wracking than getting fragile seeds into the ground, which sprout forth during a period of several warm days, only to be zapped back by an unexpected freeze. 

Typically the first part of April is when the meat chicks, what I call meat seeds, that I’ve ordered back in January, arrive. The days prior to their arrival at our wonderful postal service, I’m on baby alert. I watch the weather obsessively, cringing when I hear of a cold snap headed our way. The tracking feature on the hatchery’s website goes up a few quarter clicks as I frequently check the shipment of chicks making their journey from Polk, Ohio, down to our little post office. 

My obsession is not unwarranted, a few years back there was a shipment of 100 chicks which took a complete detour from their origin in Ohio to Pennsylvania and then back to their Indiana destination. While the birds were touring the upper part of the country, there was also a hard freeze that happened and when the chicks were finally delivered to the local post office, the postmaster called with a solemn voice - telling me that he was pretty sure there were still some alive in the box but he wasn’t sure how many. 

Not one of the most positive times on the farm, but that year three quarters of the shipment didn’t survive. Not only was it a hard loss emotionally but everything had to be adjusted for the rest of the year. 

You see, before the meat seeds arrive, the processing date needs to be set well in advance so that everything works in perfect timing. When that amount of livestock is lost, it requires a call to the processor for a number adjustment and then the need to set another processing date for the replacements which will arrive when the hatchery says they are available (sometimes not for a month or two). So a kink in the process really created havoc that year. 

All this being said, I’m eagerly awaiting the arrival of 100 new meat seeds that are to be delivered in the next day or so and, guess what, another cold snap has descended upon us. I’m hounding the hatchery for tracking information and have set up the brooder boxes that the little fluff balls will call home for the first three weeks of their life. I’ll finally relax when I know the chicks are in the mail and headed my way without any problems. Hopefully thats soon. 

Until next time…

Procrastination Equals Cost Inflation

 Forgive me dear readers, it has been 8 weeks since my last article and I know that I’m going to have to do penance to catch everyone up on what has been happening around the compound, ‘ahem the farm.

Surprisingly, the frigid temperatures that we all faced a few weeks ago didn’t do much damage at all. Not going to lie, it was a struggle to get last minute heaters plugged in, only to find out that two of the four that I had, had gone on the fritz and were not working. 

This necessitated needing to move one of the bantam chicken flocks in with one of the others - resulting in a wonderful new situation as there are now only three flocks to work with instead of four. 

The pot belly piggies; Chester and Spike, caused me the most concern as I wasn’t sure how they would handle the extreme temperatures. I knew they needed several bales of straw, but when one waits until the last minute to get supplies before a big event like that - one has to realize that resources will be limited and limited they were. 

When I went to purchase said two bales of straw at my usual location inside a barn where they have the money box on an honor system, they were, no surprise, out. Almost in frustrated tears and ready to finally succumb to my reservation at bringing farm animals into the house, as I drove away from the site I noticed a hay wagon filled with a dwindling amount of straw bales and a pickup truck nearby with, who I presumed was, the straw farmer inside. 

Talk about begging and pleading, I walked up to the truck and asked the man inside if those bales on the wagon were for sale. He nodded and gave me the price. It seemed to be a bit more than usual, but at that particular moment I would have just about paid any price for straw. I paid the man and didn’t even scoff when it turned out I didn’t have change and ended up giving him three extra dollars. 

Lesson learned for me - procrastination equals cost inflation.

I must have looked like a crazed woman as I then heaved myself up on the wagon, grabbed two bales, leapt down and crammed them into my Honda FIT. My only reservation being that I hoped that the bales weren’t harboring some sort of rodent that had sought shelter in them. 

The bales were brought to the pigs and they spent several days inside the barn, snuggly in their straw pile bed. Of course, they didn’t get bored as I still had some fall pumpkins to keep their minds, and their mouths, busy.

We’re now on the downhill trek towards Spring and I pray no more extreme temperatures, but I was reminded of a valuable lesson that day - don’t ever wait until the last minute to do something critical, more effort and resources are spent that could have been used elsewhere. 

Next year when the hint of winter begins in the fall you’d best believe I’ll be purchasing enough straw bales to get me through the winter and then some. 

Perhaps I’ll borrow a truck though just in case something decides to tag along. 

Until next time…