I am BP

    The flooding in the barn had to be dealt with right away.  Yesterday we spend about five hours in the barn removing water.  First we had to create a small canal for the water to travel from the barn to the pond.  Have you noticed that this has been a chilly winter?  Yes? Good, then you can imagine how rock solid the ground was.  We were slicing off dirt mere centimeters at a time, but eventually came up with this.

           We then had to go dig out  some snow from the pond area - which is also frozen, so the water had someplace to settle after removing it from the barn.  Next, we started  pushing the  water out using snow shovels as "paddles" of a sort. 

            When my husband left to pick up our youngest from a party, I was there alone and thought I would try to syphon the water out using the hose.  It was less than successful on many levels.  First off, the hose was quite cold and therefore not particularly flexible.  I tried to get it to lay flat under the water to start the syphon, but every time I got one section to stay flat another curled up.  So, no go.  It was then, as I was standing with my hands  in the icy water I realized there was oil in it.  Yes, we had had a plastic container sitting under the tractor to catch any oil leaks, and when  things flooded, the container started floating, and apparently tipped, so there was not only water everywhere, but motor oil coated water.  All I could think of was "I am BP, polluting the water." sigh.

The water level was well over my foot.

Barn floods are messy

A small dike stemming the tide.

The boys and I kept a pretty good rhythm going as we pushed the water out. Then my husband came back with a "trash pump" and in an hour we were able to do the rest of the barn.

  our salvation

It had to be higher than the hose

We started to see cement!

Water coming through the output hose - VICTORY!

       So we got most of the water out of the barn, and determined that it was, indeed, all from the melting and the rain, not a burst pipe which we were worried about.  The last step was to dig an exit for water sitting in a large puddle  in the driveway area. 

My farmer boy!

Before

After

        We obviously have to figure out a way to keep this from happening next year, or  figure out how to afford a new shed/barn for the sheep, because we cannot have them in this barn if  this is a sample of how Spring will be.  But at least it happened BEFORE the sheep arrived, so we know what we are up against, and can take steps to correct it, or avoid it happening again.

     I hope your weekend was a bit less cazy.

Of Rain and Roosters

      Yesterday we started really warming up - it is in the forties and everything is melting. This makes for interesting times in our barn, but more about that later.
      The mystery of the bloody cock's comb has been solved.  My daughter and husband told me it was probably the hens.  Apparently at least one of them will sit on the ramp leading into the coop, and when Snowy (the rooster) walks by, she will peck at his comb. He is literally being hen pecked.  I am wondering if he may have not even realized it, because with the weather we have been having, it looks like the edge of his comb may have suffered from frostbite.
     Now I was feeling sorry for Snowy until yesterday morning.  My youngest son, who is 8, went into the run with some treats for the chickens, and they all came over and ate from his hand and from the bowl.  Then, after having eaten, Snowy walked away, then turned around, and squawking furiously flew at my son, spurs extended and tried to scratch him.  Had he not been wearing a winter coat, Snowy would have succeeded. As it was, the darn bird frightened him to tears, and this is not a child who cries easily.  He was scared but also felt a bit betrayed, I think, because he looked at me and said, "But I was just feeding him.  He was eating the treats.  Why would he do that?"
     Snowy has been running at my husband quite frequently, and I assure you that if he keeps it up, he will be finding another home, or end up in a pot.  We never wanted a rooster, but kept him because he was so pretty and we hoped he might keep the hens safe from any rodents.  This new aggression, however, is beyond my tolerance.  He is walking a very fine line.
     Now to the rain.  Along with the warmer temperatures, we got some  rain last night.  When putting the chickens to bed las night, we found a couple of inches of water in the low part of the barn.  This morning it was a couple of inches in a fair amount of the barn.  This evening,  the entire barn, except for  the section where the chickens' run is, was covered with anywhere from 2 to 6 1/2 inches of water. (Yes, I measured.) The rain and melting snow are all flowing into the barn.  Part of it is expected - this is a poor design for  the area it sits on.  However, prior to our buying the place, another prospective buyer insisted the barn be "cleaned out" before she buy it.  Instead of using a backblade and scraping out  an even floor, they hired some local kids who dug it out with shovels, leaving many areas well below the level  of the surrounding ground, making a perfect  place for the water to stand.   The only reason the coop has dry areas is it sits a little higher, and I have been shoveling composted manure/hay/dirt from the run in and making little dikes all around the run.
     Tomorrow after getting one child to a snow tubing/water part date, and another to a birthday party, I suspect I will be buying a sump pump of some sort and/or bailing out the barn.  Funny, I never thought I'd put bailing and barn in the same sentence!
      At least my dear husband will be home - he missed all this fun as he was taking our daughter to visit some colleges she is interested in.  He had his own fun, however, when he blew a tire coming up from PA.  Ah well, as they say, "It never rains, but it pours." Off to dry out my boots!

Blood on the rooster

   Snowing this morning.  Folks are grumbling, but I can't help it - I love it.  I am a winter baby, and snow is my element.  Give me cold temps, and huge sweaters to burrow into and I am a happy girl!
    Brought water to the farm for the chickens.  I always put the scraps in their bowl in the run before letting them out of the coop.  Less confusion for them, less time for Snowy, the rooster, to think he might not like me today.  He hates my husband, and tries to attack him at any opportunity.  I do not need that.  When I opened the door to the run, they all came scrambling out.  I cleaned and filled the waterer, and filled the feeder.  Checked for eggs - none.  They have started laying in the afternoon.
    Looked back at the run and noticed blood spots in the treat bowl.  Hmm.  Checked all the hens, and saw a blood spot on the face of one.  Okay, maybe somebody pecked her.  Not really worried.  Then I saw Snowy.  He had blood dripping from his comb down onto his face.  He has a really lovely high comb, and it looks like he nicked the dagging on the top of his comb.  There was little to do for him,  but watch and hope it clots.  None of the hens will bother him - he is several inches taller, quite a bit heavier, and a whole lot meaner than any of them, so now we let nature take its course.
    Always something new for me to learn - including when to let things alone.

one of those mornings

       Yesterday's foray into the barn was not thrilling.  It was chilly.  Not wicked freezing cold, but 10 degrees or so.   I brought the chickens their scraps - they got left overs from last night's dinner - salad and left over spaghetti - their favorites.  As they were busy scrambling for the best bits, I filled the feeder and grabbed the waterer to change out the water.  I dumped the messy water and went to the water spigot to find it was pretty well frozen in place.  After a great deal of grunting and lifting, I managed to break the grip of the cold and lift the handle.  Nothing.  I pushed it up further.  Nothing  still.
       Damn! SOoo, with my father's influence in my heart, and the pocket knife he gave me for my 14th birthday in my pocket, I looked for a quick solution.  I found an empty milk jug on the table, cut off the top to make a scoop, then tried to open the door to the paddock.  The clasp on the chain was frozen solid.  After working on it for a bit, it moved enough to release the chain.  I stood up, and banged my head on the metal wall bracket. Ouch!  I went outside and filled the waterer with snow.  I figured that between the lamp in the coop and the heater that keeps the waterer from freezing in the winter, it would melt.
    I drove back to the house and came back with  a couple of gallons of fresh water and the hairdryer.  The birds were happy for the water, as the snow was not yet melting.  I stood for a while trying to melt the pipe from the ground up towards the handle of the hydrant, but in vain. Today my husband is researching the best way to fix and prevent the problem.
     Some mornings are going to be like this - frozen water, banged up head, and no eggs.   However, last night, under the nearly full moon, we gathered 8 eggs and then stood looking at the moon over the high pasture - it all balances out in the end. 

Taking the plunge

      We have sold our first few dozen eggs this week.  Yeah! The chickens are starting to pay for themselves!  Okay, who am I kidding? They will take years to pay for the start up costs of lumber and hardware for the coop, and the continuing costs of feed and electricity.    However, $2.50 at a time, they are starting to earn their keep.
      The real reason to get the chickens was a) to have something on the farm so we do not lose the RA40 zoning, and b) to get us into the idea of having to be at the farm a minimum of twice a day, every day.  They are our practice animals.  They have been teaching us how to be farmers.  Now comes the real deal.
      We are about to put the deposit down on the lambs.  We were originally advised that a good size for a starter flock would be six sheep - two rams and four ewes.  This way we have two sets of male genes to switch around, and having two rams mean there is never a lonely sheep during the times when the boys are separated from the girls. However, this was a touch out of our budget, and we are going for two rams and three ewes.  We will still have two different sets of genes from the boys, just one less girl, so a few less lambs in our first lambing season.

     The emotional part of me wants many lambs, with a wide choice of fiber colours, but the practical person says no.  This is better.  Going over budget on the livestock means there is not money for something else down the line.  Where would we scrimp?  Fencing?  No.  Medications, or feed, or hay?  No, no, and no.  This is the right way to do it. Since Finnsheep tend to have twins and triplets most of the time, and litters occasionally, starting smaller may be better.  If three ewes have just two lambs each, we will more than double the size of the flock right off the bat.
     So tonight I am writing the check to reserve the lambs that will become our flock.  We will not see them until late Spring, but like having a baby, we have so much to do before their arrival!

I Gotta See a Gal About a Sheep...

     Today, my husband, our youngest son, and I went to see a lady about some sheep.  We drove north about 2 hours to visit Stillmeadow Farm, where Elizabeth Kinne Gossner raises registered purebred Finnsheep.   We had been talking about other types of sheep, but somehow (I cannot remember exactly how) my husband saw Finnsheep and started becoming interested in them.  So, we visited Elizabeth's farm today, and saw her rams (three of them) as well as her girls, (seventeen of them, all pregnant) and got a general "feel" for the breed.
     Her flock is very sweet - docile, friendly, or at least respectful, depending on the ewe, with lovely fleece.

You can see the variety of fleece colours from white to silver, tan to black

"Do his bangs taste good?"

Chillin' with the girls

Using Cream Top as a pillow, while her mom checks him out.

A hug before leaving

   We were really impressed by Elizabeth's flock, her dedication to strong bloodlines and a disease free sheep, as well as her knowledge and willingness to educate us.   Before heading out to the barns, we chatted for a while and she showed us her five spinning wheels, talked about her pottery (Yes, she is a potter), as well as telling me the felting method she uses to produce her lovely felted purses.  Before leaving her farm, she had given my son one of her hand thrown coffee mugs, and me two different one ounce batts of fiber from her sheep. Her reasoning?  "You're going to buy sheep from me.  I'm buttering you up."

     We are hoping to purchase some of her lambs come Spring.  Keep you posted. 

St. Distaff Day

     January 7 is Roc Day, or Distaff Day, or St. Distaff Day.  It was the day that women went back to their spinning work after the twelve days of Christmas were completed.  I must admit, to me, January 7 is the day the Christmas tree comes down.
     Friday, my husband spoke to a shepherd near Ithaca about her Finnsheep and the possibility of us buying some in the Spring.  They had a lengthy conversation, and we are visiting her farm today,  she invited me to come up yesterday for the Roc Day celebration her spinning guild holds.  As it was pouring rain yesterday, I really did not feel like driving out nearly two hours to go to this celebration.  However, since it was pouring rain outside yesterday, it was perfect for spinning on my own, at home.
    I pulled out the batts of Faroe Island wool that I have had for about a year now.  These sheep are a northern European short tail type, closely related to Icelandic sheep (another breed I am interested in).  I have never spun Faroe or Icelandic wool, so I gave it a go.   The results are interesting and it has been really helpful to start this now.  The wool is courser than much of what I normally spin.  It has a fair amount of kemp and, unfortunately,  this batt is full of vm.  I can see this making a nice blanket, or a sweater that you wear a turtleneck under.  It is not a "next to the skin"  wool, but I kind of like it.

I love the silver and grey variations

large pieces of straw aw well as foxtails and seeds

Spinning up nicely, but you can see the prickly,
itchy fibers standing out from the yarn.

 If this is a similar to Icelandics as I have read, I am now not certain I want to raise them for fiber. I am still really enamoured of the Black Welsh Mountain sheep, but have not done a fiber test on them.  Shetlands are a dream sheep for fiber, so they are still in the running, but Finnsheep with their tendency to have litters of lambs, not just twins, may be a good starting place.  I will tell you more after we come back from the sheep farm today.
     So a belated happy Roc Day to all the spinsters out there.  Have a wonderful new year.