The Stress of Spring

The sun has been shining now for two days in a row and the flowers and trees are starting to bud and blossom. You can almost hear them stretching, yawning and sighing relief that the cold days of winter seem to be behind us and it is time to grow.

On the farm, little purple flowers are starting to pop up in the fields – turning everything a lovely shade of purple and the first Spring grass just glows. It is an amazing sight and the biggest reason Spring is one of my most favorite seasons. 

I have to remind myself to enjoy these sights as I also think of the short time frame I have to get the garden tilled before weeds take over, plants planted so that the ground produces food, baby chicks moved from brooder to grow out pen to, finally, the adult coop, dog treats made and readied for the upcoming Farmer’s Markets and a bit of Spring Cleaning to take inventory to what I have and what I need to keep and what needs to go.

It can certainly be a stressful time as it doesn’t take but a few weeks before summer’s heat sets in and mowing becomes a priority as well as keeping waterers filled as the chickens’ need for water increases. 

Just as in the winter, when the temperature drops below 20 degrees, I have to stop for a moment and just take in this gift of rural living that I have taken on. Catching a sunrise and pausing for just a few minutes to appreciate the colors and the sounds of the earth waking or stopping for a sunset when the crickets and peep frogs begin to sing their nightly serenade needs and must be a priority for me to keep the balance. 

Rural living can be tough, but the rewards are incredible. 

A Little Double Clucker Magic May Be in the Air

Word around the farm lately has been that something magical may be about to happen. A few weeks back, an Olive Egger hen laid one of her HUGE eggs.

When this bird lays one of these eggs it’s a bit unnerving. The size of it is at least two large eggs put together and I’m honestly surprised that the hen isn’t walking straddle-legged after producing such an orb.

The egg is always a double-yolker and I’ve had to stop putting them in the egg cartons for my eggs to sell because the massive size of the egg doesn’t allow the carton to close completely.

Not to mention, a lot of folks may be freaked out by eating something that large.

So, I gathered this huge egg from the henhouse and set it aside while I washed the other eggs I’d collected that day. The thought entered my mind that maybe I could incubate this egg, but what would be the chances that 1. both yolks were fertilized and 2. that both would develop into chicks?

I was right at the end point of having the last of the 7 eggs hatch in the incubator and I just couldn’t figure out how this was going to work. Should I even attempt to have it work?

I sat the egg on the kitchen counter for a couple of days, turning it twice a day, as I watched the remaining chicks emerge from their shells in the incubator. If I put the huge egg into the incubator it would be almost 4 days after it had been laid (yet another negative factor to development).

There were 7 very happy, healthy, chicks in the brooder at this point and after I cleaned up the hatching mess (oh yes, trust me – there is a mess), sterilized the incubator and started to put things away I suddenly thought “oh what the heck, why not?”

In ten minutes time I had the incubator set back up, humidity raised, egg turner re-installed and the huge egg placed into the warm, moist air of the machine. I had to commit.  

I checked two days into the egg being in the incubator and only saw two yolks floating around beneath the shell. Though I knew it was way too soon to tell I was almost happy that nothing had developed. The burning questions of; what if only one chick survives and the other doesn’t make it, what if both chicks make it the full way before hatching and then don’t survive, what if one is born and has a problem because it was squeezed into a shell with another. Was I doing something wrong by trying? Would other farmers have tried this or was it wasteful?

I had to stop questioning and wait a few more days so I did.

Five days into the egg being in the incubator I removed the lid and shined the candeler light into the shell. There were two distinct “spider webs” that could be seen indicating that yes- there were in fact, two chicks growing inside this massive egg. TWINS!

Fast forward to now with only about 5 days to go before the twins scheduled “hatching date” and though I can’t tell if both chicks are still going inside the egg I know that something is growing and I’m staying hopeful that I’ll be one of the very lucky few who has twin chickens hatch out of an egg.

If you do a Google search on twin chickens hatching you’ll notice that the success rate is extremely low. Most of the time the chicks can’t get out and exhaust themselves fighting against one another to break out of the shell. It is with this guard that I’m anxiously awaiting the 27^th of March to see if I get to see two little beaks trying to get out.

Double Yolks, Double Chicks?

So I’ve been a bit on a hatching binge lately. A few weeks back I purchased 4 little bantam chicks from the local farm store. Then, I decided that I needed to find out how well the new incubator worked so I put 9 eggs in and I’ll be darned if 7 eggs didn’t hatch 21 days later!

A few days ago, my olive egger hen decided to lay one of those huge eggs that she sometimes produces and I knew that it was a double yolker.

I let the egg rest on the kitchen counter for a couple of days – gently turning it twice a day to keep the yolk from sticking to one side and finally decided that I needed to take action and get it into the incubator to try and incubate a double hatch.

Weird? Yes. Unethical? Well, the chances of one chick making it to hatch are few and far between and for both yolks to develop and grow and then both hatch is almost next to impossible but I’m thinking I need to try it at least once. I’ve not had the opportunity just yet to candle this egg and see if anything is starting to develop, but once it does I’ll be watching it so closely.

According to Google, the chances of having a double yolked egg is one in every 100 eggs so the odds of developing chicks from such an egg are even smaller. Usually one chick out competes the other and one will survive and the other will not.

I can’t say how many times I’ve struggled with the thought and the know that one chick may hatch and be raised by itself.

That thought is quickly replaced though by the hope and the prayer that both chicks survive to hatching and I manage to catch the whole crazy thing on recording.

A bit of this is, I think, the farmer mentality – try it and see if it works. If it doesn’t, don’t do it again and learn the lesson.

The day of truth is coming up within the next day or so when I candle the egg for the first time and discover growth or just two black blobs (the yolks) moving around beneath the shell.

Stay tuned for what happens next. 

A Flocking Miracle

I gained a few more gray hairs last night with two chicks in the incubator that decided they were ready to make an early entrance.

I put the eggs in “lock down” on Sunday and figured I had at least three more days to prepare the brooding box and double check everything that I would need.

Okay, let me stop for a moment. You probably have no idea what I’m talking about with “lock down”. Let me explain briefly.

“Lock down” is a term used when incubating eggs to signify the final three or so days of the 21 total days of incubation. It is called lock down because you up the humidity levels in the incubator, remove eggs from the egg turner (or just stop turning them if you’re doing it manually), close the incubator and do not open it again until the chicks have hatched. This is done so that the chick has the opportunity to orient its beak to where it needs to be to get out of the shell and also to keep the humidity levels high so that the chick can break out of the shell easily and not have difficulty. If the humidity levels are not high enough during hatching the chick can get stuck in the membrane inside the shell and basically is “shrink wrapped”. Typically, when this happens, the chick does not survive.

So, as I said before, I wasn’t prepared for these little ones to start making their entrance for a few more days so I hadn’t had anything set up yet for them. Heck, I could do it in five minutes so what was my big hurry?

I found out really quickly Monday morning when I stepped into the bathroom to check the humidity percentage and discovered a blue egg with a tiny hole in it. A “pip” or a breakthrough in the shell had happened and it meant that a chick was preparing to make its way into the world. I briefly glanced at the other eggs and noticed another blue egg had a tiny amount of shell protruding from the smooth surface of that egg.

Two eggs were preparing for hatching and it was TWO days early!

One might not think a couple of days is a big deal, but it can mean the difference between a chick surviving and dying while incubating as it is those final three days that the yolk is absorbed into the chick. Yolk fully absorbed the chick is hatched with a closed abdomen and scampers around. Yolk not fully absorbed and the chick either doesn’t hatch at all or hatches with an open abdomen and passes away soon after. It’s a crazy delicate balance.

You can see why I was beyond concerned that there was hatching going on. 

I had no choice though but to let things be and headed to work. All the while thinking of what I would find when I got home later that afternoon.

When I arrived home, I quickly ran to the bathroom to check the incubator and saw one chick stumbling around the unhatched eggs, still a bit damp from hatching but noticed that the egg with the tiny hole hadn’t made much (if at all) progress. At this point it had been roughly 15 hours since I first noticed the hole.

Needless to say, this mama got incredibly concerned.

I waited one, two, two and a half hours – fretting that I shouldn’t step in and try to help the baby out, but I knew that each hour that ticked by the baby was getting more and more exhausted and from what I could see of the membrane that was poking out of the shell, I was pretty sure the membrane had dried to

the point of “shrink wrapping” the chick.

There would be no way this little one would be able to make it out on its own. It would surely die if I left it, but it could die if I helped it.

Hands shaking, I removed the egg from the incubator and slowly, s-l-o-w-l-y, started to peel back shell and dried membrane.

One of the biggest causes of death for helping a chick out of the shell is bleeding and I kept watching for the tiniest sign of blood that would have caused me to immediately stop prying this little one from its calcium coffin.

I was fortunate. I only saw the tiniest amount of blood and was able to get the chick to the point that it was still cocooned in its shell but could break free if it just kicked.

Worried and stressed, I put the little one back into the incubator and stepped away for another hour. Hopeful that the other hatched chick’s peeping and prodding would encourage this little one to try and fight.

A miracle happened yesterday.

The chick rallied and when I stepped back into the bathroom I saw the little head shaking but rising and saw it try to get its feet under it. It wanted to fight, it wanted to live. Heaven would not gain this little one back this time.

Twenty-four hours later the two chicks are still going and I pray that it continues. I know that anything still could happen and has happened in the past, but for now I’m going to be thankful and realized how very blessed my household was last night to witness that miracle. 

Mother Clucker as an Actress?

This Mother Clucker has been busy. I recently decided to stretch my comfort level and audition, through urging from some friends, for a musical that my community’s local theatre group was putting on. The musical was based on a popular 1980’s movie called 9 to 5 starring the lovely Dolly Parton, Lillian Tomlin and Jane Fonda as the three women (to quote from the musical, W-o-m-Y-n) who have had enough of their sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical, bigot boss, Mr. Franklin Hart, and show some girl power to stand up for women’s rights in the workplace.

I’m a karaoke junkie by night and thought – ah heck, we’ll see what happens. I auditioned using a spoken line from the song “Cell Block Tango” (no, not chew – pop!) because it was honestly the only line that I could hurriedly memorize and not forget and then sang one of my canned karaoke standbys which I could also do without forgetting, “Crazy” by Patsy Cline. The audition was mediocre at best. I had zero confidence that I’d get cast in any role but maybe a stand in as a background singer. Thanks to a good friend (thanks Steve!) who saw more in me than I saw in myself – he urged the director that I would probably be a good fit for the role of “Rosalind Keith” or “Roz” as she is known in the musical. This friend had heard me belt it out during summer evenings at the brewery and tossed me into the role. He knew I would love it though at the beginning I wasn’t so sure.

Rehearsals began early December and went three nights a week for 2-3 hours each. Of course, at the very beginning several members who were originally cast found that other commitments pulled them from their time with the theatre and suddenly the Director and Assistant Director were scrambling to fill those spots.

At the same time all of this was happening, I worried that the Director was thinking she had made a mistake in casting me in the role and I remember one evening sending a tear soaked text to my friend saying that I didn’t think I was cut out for the role – that someone else could have done a better job than me.

He wasn’t having it – telling me “Trust me. Stacey does not make decisions that she is not sure of – her only question was if you were good in front of a crowd. She is in love with your voice and you are the perfect Roz. Those are her words.” I stopped. I had to trust him that what he said was true. I had spent my entire life doubting what was actually said by folks and, yes, Steve could have been filling my head with utter Tom Flockery, but this was going to be my role and I was going to work my hardest to make it the best that I could.

Farm life took a bit of a backseat during the 12 weeks or so of rehearsals. I rushed home from my day job to hurriedly feed dogs, cats, chickens, collect eggs, fill water when needed and collect grain from the brewery to bring back to feed to the chickens. This went on three times a week for 12 weeks! I was absolutely on a whirlwind to get it all done and I, shockingly, seemed to do it! Thankfully, no one critter died or (to my knowledge) suffered in my sporadic time at home and, because it was winter, there weren’t any gardens to till, nor supplies to ready for Farmer’s Market, etc.

Once we made it through Tech Week Hell (no matter who you work with, or what theatre company you work with – it’s always hell), I got up on stage that first night and those lights! I felt their warmth and the warmth of 224 (or so) people looking at me and I surprised myself that I wasn’t nervous. Maybe wrangling all of those chickens these past few years have taken some of the fear away that someone would look at me and laugh. I’m already a Mother Clucker so what else was there to make fun of? Besides, my character was supposed to bring laughter so this was perfect!

It's been a few hours since my feet last hit the stage and the set has been torn down and put away. I’m hearing buzzings of compliments here and there about the musical from those who attended and others who say they wished they had gotten tickets. 

It’s been a great ride.

My character was truly a character and I’m thankful that this Mother Clucker decided to go through with it. I just needed a little shove into the limelight to truly appreciate what a gift this production was. The people I worked with and now know I am forever thankful for. My biggest thanks go to my friend Steve for seeing more in me than just a crazy chicken farmer. J 

Photo credits to the talented Zach Spicer of The Tribune

Gotta Keep Clucking Going: Treat the Treats

Starting and keeping a small business running is definitely NOT for the faint of heart. I remember when I first launched the dog treats in September 2017 and was so excited that the brewery from which the spent grains came from and my friends were clamoring for the treats in those first few weeks.

I began to get confident and think that this was the way that I was going to cover the expenses that come from running a small farm and having rescue animals.

Then, came the lull and not just any lull – the BIG lull. I applied for a permit to sell at the Columbus Winter Farmer’s Market weeks before the Christmas season and started to dream up images of success as I imagined bags flying off shelves and me in a rush to keep up with demand. I ordered a whole slew of labels for the packaging and stocked up on ribbon and bags. I was READY!

I sat, week after week, watching as potential customers walked by my well placed table with bright shiny bows, pristine labels and the tantalizing smell of peanut butter hovering over my table. I smiled at each customer and wished them a “Good Morning” as they walked by, stopped, commented and walked on. It was so disheartening. I went home every week that I was at the market – thinking that this would be my last one and that I was going to give up the treat business.

But, each week I was there, I would pull my small table from the car get my treats situated and try once more to sell just enough to pay for gas that week and the expenses of making the treats. Some weeks I made it, most I did not.

When summer rolled around, I figured I would try once more to get these treats to take off and applied for a permit to sell at the Seymour Farmer’s Market a few weeks. Once again, I would see people walk up – say hello and walk on. Once again, some weeks I made enough to cover the cost of making the treats and others – just enough to cover breakfast at the taco truck.

Fast forward to this fall – it has been incredibly slow this holiday season and I’m trying to stay hopeful. A very small part of me wants to just throw in the towel and call it quits. It is so hard to keep trying to sell something that you know is good and that dogs love, but just can’t seem to get it to take off the ground.

I’m still hanging on to the fact that I’m inches away from getting a registered trademark on the treats and I keep thinking that I can’t quit. I've come too far, put too much time in and am too determined to let that stop me. I don't want to be one of those small businesses that stop after 18 months. 

The treats are a year old and I hope that they make it to their 2nd birthday. I just have to keep hoping, keep trying. 

Sometimes a Sensitive Mama Clucker

I’ve had my first experience with trapping over the last week or so. I always wondered why the farming stores had so many live traps and, in my city mindset, had this romantic ideal that farming folks trapped the critters just so they could take them to refuges or some other such oasis and let them live their lives out.  

I couldn’t have had thoughts further from the actual truth – at least, most of the time.

Following the slaughter’fest that happened with the small breed chickens, I wanted to find the culprit predator that caused such a major loss. I wanted to rebuild and didn’t want to put birds back into a situation that would result in the same outcome.

I did what any city girl would do and enlisted the help of a neighbor who has been in farming for generations who immediately suggested we set up traps to catch the offender and, he noted, get rid of it.

It didn’t take me two rooster crows to figure out what he was talking about. He was talking about getting RID of it. Like, dead; deceased, to the big forest in the sky, all the prey they want, dead. The city gal in me wanted to scream “Oh hell no,” but the budding country voice (which isn’t always the loudest) whispered “you know he’s right.”

This neighbor was right. Predators don’t belong around barns and having all-you-can-eat buffets of chicken and whatever else is picking around the yard. Predators have a place in the woods and far from civilization.

Now, before you start calling judgement and saying that predators have been pushed out of their wooded homes by other residential developments and therefore belong on my property to pretty much take whatever they wish, I have to respectfully disagree though I do agree that there has been a surge in development recently and this is disheartening.

Most of the time, I live in harmony with the nature that surrounds me. I have moles that are doing some serious damage to the yard and will need to be taken care of sooner or later, but for the most part the critters stay away and I get to put my chickens out to enjoy the day and then lay super tasty eggs.

Things had changed though, since the predator attack and something needed to be done.

So, the neighbor graciously traveled over with his ATV and dropped 4 live traps at various places around the property. He told me that raw meet would attract the most action and unwrapped four frozen slabs of ribs that he said were too old (2016).

I remember laughing just a bit that this was considered “old” for meat. I’m pretty sure I’ve eaten frozen meat that is somewhere in the 5-10 year range. Again, difference in city-gal and country folk. I’ll get there.

The first morning I went out to open the coop door and check the traps and found a very young opossum looking at me cautiously from the confines of the metal wire cage. I knew what the neighbor had said, “that we would get rid of them”, but this one was young, small and far away from the barns. I knew that this wasn’t one of the culprits to damage done around the barn and worked to free the critter – remembering to keep my fingers free from any teeth.

The second morning found another opossum in the same wire trap, though this one was bigger, and a skunk in the trap located in the barn itself where the small breed chickens used to be.

Again, the opossum got to roam free and I returned to the trap in the barn – knowing what the fate was going to be for this creature.

I accept that some folk will relish in the fact that they get to kill a creature, but that’s just not who I am. I knew that there was no way that I could release this fellow and something had to be done.

Under a hazy moonlit night a few hours later, the neighbor came over with his .22 rifle to dispatch the creature humanely. It was a lot quicker than I thought it would be. Only the “snap” of the gun and a small turning of the critter and it was gone.

I remember remarking how much more peaceful that was than to watch a chicken in its final seconds.

Death is never easy and should never be taken lightly. In a sense I see it as power and perhaps that’s what makes me struggle with it. I oftentimes see it as me saying that I am more powerful than whatever I am needing to kill and why should I get to live and the creature at hand has to die?

This being said though, the neighbor reminded me that I needed to think of the other things that need to live on the farm to make it work and that this one skunk could very well wipe that out.

Again, he was right.

That soft country voice is growing louder as I spend more time on this farm and every experience I have, whether good or bad, is a step in the path to becoming a full-fledged farmer. I don’t know that I will ever be comfortable with killing and death and perhaps I don’t want to be.

I have to think that there are others out there just like me.