Farm Friday: Living the Dream Life

I get a lot of awesome comments from my awesome readers.

I'm sure they must be here for the skillful and poetic writing (see above sentence).



Anyway, one comment I get a good bit is something along the lines of
"You're living my dream life".

And it is a dream life for many people. Myself included.

But if I'm going to be a responsible blogger, I think I need to point out a few of the less-than romantic realities of hobby farming.

Because it's not all gathering wildflowers in a sunny field or walking through pristine bedding to collect fresh eggs in a vintage basket.

So if you're picturing Laura Ingalls in a Massengil commercial, I think it's time for me to paint you a new picture.

In fact, let me give you a little quiz on this "dream life", and we'll see how you fare.


Rats

If you have a farm, they will come.

So let me ask you, when you hear the word 'rat', do you picture

a:

Head straight to your nearest Petco and get yourself a little cage and a hamster. That's as close as you should get to farming.


b:

Buy a horse and board it at someone else's farm.



or c:

Get you some barn cats and a rat terrier. You're ready.






Mud

No one is quite sure of the science behind it, but farms seem to generate mud. Lots of it. So again, I ask, when you hear 'mud', do you picture

a:

Buying your eggs and veggies from a farmer's market is as near as you should get to farming.






b:

Not even close.




or c:

Yeah.  That's about it.  Get a snorkel and come on down.






Decision-Making

Living on a farm, you sometimes have to make tough decisions.
For instance, if you see a mangy, skanky-looking fox skulking around your barn for a few days, and then one day you find him curled up in the corner DEAD, do you

a:
Cry a little, offer up a prayer to the god of wildlife, and bury him under your prize rosebush?

b:
Cut off his head and stick it in the mail?
AS ADVISED BY THE DEPARTMENT OF FISH AND WILDLIFE, I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP PEOPLE!!!!

or c:
Scoop him up with a shovel and ditch him in the thicket and marshes under cover of night, a la Jimmy Hoffa?



I still can't talk about it.





Preparedness

If you were to live on a farm, which of the following would you be physically, mentally, and emotionally prepared to do?

a: sexually violate your hen with mineral oil and rubber gloves when, in your chicken ignorance, you mistake broodiness for being egg-bound.

b: Scrub out dirty water buckets.

c: Scrub out dirty water buckets in which you have picked out drowned rats.

d: Scoop manure till your back breaks.

e: Track said manure into your house, as if you didn't have enough to clean up already.

f: Castrate ram-lambs and bucklings with your very own Elastrator.

g: Fix fences and gates while your household projects remain on the to-do list.

h: Spend $300 on a hay delivery while you feed your kids Ramen till payday.

i: Pull #$!*ing burrs out of manes and tails till your fingers bleed.

j: Massage the udders and nipples of mastitic does and ewes and mares.

k: All of the above and much, much more.



If you answered "c" in the rats, mud, and decision making portions of the test, and "k" in the preparedness section, you might be ready to buy the farm.



But just one more word of caution:

While you'll find there's a little of this in farming:

There's a heck of a lot more of this:

And believe me when I tell you, if that's the worst I ever looked doing the dirty work of farming, I would be thrilled.




But go ahead.  Get some chickens.  Maybe a few goats. 

Live the dream.

Just don't say I didn't warn you....










Image sources: shutterstock.com, istockphoto.com, equinaturaledits.blogspot.com, nfws.org.uk, saviortpc.com, sodahead.com, animal.discovery.com, stylecraze.com, yesspaces.com, 123rf.com

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Thanks!

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In case you didn't know it, I'm like the queen of blog-hoppin' lately. It's kind of like square dancing but without the dated outfits, smelly gym, and elderly caller. You can find my full schedule in my sidebar, come join the fun!


****************

Rudeness disclaimer:

I love all your comments,
I read every one!
But I can't hit 'reply',
I've no time for fun.
Please don't judge me,
Please don't hate.
If you have a question that just can't wait,
Send me an email at farmbeachgal@yahoo.com,
And I'll answer right back because I'm, you know, the Mom.

Wordless Wednesday

I call this one:

Goats in the Snow, Begging for a Snack.

I call this one:

Black Dog Playing Snowball Fights.

And I call this one:

White Dog Who Thinks She is Camouflaged But Really Looks Yellow.

I'm an artist.


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Read it.
Like it?
Follow it.
Please?
Thanks.
(Follow my blog by adding yourself as a follower with Google Friends Connect in my sidebar!)


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Don't forget, I will love you forever if you throw me a vote on Top Mommy Blogs. You know the drill by now, don't you? Just click the juggling chick and you've voted. You can vote every day till like, forever.



Thanks!


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Check out my blog-hoppin' schedule in my sidebar, and come join the fun!

*************

Rudeness disclaimer:

I love all your comments,
I read every one!
But I can't hit 'reply',
I've no time for fun.
Please don't judge me,
Please don't hate.
If you have a question that just can't wait,
Send me an email at farmbeachgal@yahoo.com,
And I'll answer right back because I'm, you know, the Mom.

Farm Friday: I'm on Christmas Break

Here's a repost from my old blog.
I have ribbons and bows and boxes to put away....


It's Friday. Farm Friday.

But it's been pretty quiet on the farm lately. No injuries or illnesses, no escapees, no births, no deaths.

Maybe I'll just jot down a quick list of what I like about each of the critters. Not as individuals, mind you, but as groups. Just the farm critters, not the dogs and cats and small caged animals.


The Horses

What's not to love about horses, right? Well, except maybe their poop. And their mud. And oh yeah, their burrs.

Still, plenty to love.

I love the way they smell.

I love their sleek coats in the summer and their fuzzy coats in the winter.

I love when they blow their sweet grassy breath into your nose, and their curiosity.

I love to sit on the bare back of my mare Genevieve in the cold weather, not even riding anywhere, just draping myself across her neck and soaking up her warmth.

I love Pippin's doggish friendliness.

I love Finnegan's .... looks. Not much else to like about that one. But he sure is handsome.



The Goats

I love that they will eat anything. I wish my youngest could be so bold in what he chooses to eat.

I love that they keep the grass and weeds down in the boggier parts of our property that would suck a tractor up and never say a word about it.

I love that they mow the steep hillside we can't take the tractor onto without fear of it taking a swan dive into the pond.

I love how they come running over to the deck when you call them for some goodies.

I love their absolute adorableness.



The Rabbits

OK, they have no purpose, I'll admit it. They're just so stinkin' cute. Especially Alice, our soft grey Flemish Giant who is roughly the size of a Springer Spaniel.



Our Chickens

Our only "productive" farm animals.

I love the clucks and chatters of my sweet hens.

I love their good looks.

I love their soft, glossy backs.

I love the out-of-this-world-fresh-and-yummy eggs they give us every day without fail.

How about you?  If you have farm critters, what's your favorite kind?



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Read it.
Like it?
Follow it.
Please?
Thanks.
(Follow my blog by adding yourself as a follower with Google Friends Connect in my sidebar!)


***************************


Don't forget, I will love you forever if you throw me a vote on Top Mommy Blogs. You know the drill by now, don't you? Just click the juggling chick and you've voted. You can vote every day till like, forever.



Thanks!

***************

In case you didn't know it, I'm like the queen of blog-hoppin' lately. It's kind of like square dancing but without the dated outfits, smelly gym, and elderly caller. You can find my full schedule in my sidebar, come join the fun!


****************

Rudeness disclaimer:

I love all your comments,
I read every one!
But I can't hit 'reply',
I've no time for fun.
Please don't judge me,
Please don't hate.
If you have a question that just can't wait,
Send me an email at farmbeachgal@yahoo.com,
And I'll answer right back because I'm, you know, the Mom.

Farm Friday: I Lost It. Yes, "It".

Ick. 
At a time when my blog has more followers and more traffic than ever, my Top Mommy Blog votes are dropping. I'm off the first page!  Just a week or so ago I was up to #14! 
If everyone who visits could take one second to click this brown button, it would shoot me straight back up again.
Pretty please? With sugar on top?
Thanks!!




**********************




I've lost my homesteader virginity.

Some might think I lost it when I got goats.

Nah, that was just makin' out.

Some would say I lost it when I got chickens and started getting eggs.

Uh-uh. That would be more like 2nd base.

But raising chickens for meat?
Taking them to slaughter and then eating them?

Yep. Lost my virginity.



And while I'll admit I had a first-timer's jitters, it went just fine.

I loaded them into a dog crate in the back of the car.

The big boys wanted me to drop them off at the Amish Market on my way to the "chicken drop".

They were none too pleased driving there with a crate of chickens just the other side of their seat.

Ohhh, Mom, really? Do we have to drive there with the chickens?
Why are they making all that noise?
Why do they smell?
Oh my God, now they smell even worse! Did they POOP?
Open the windows!
Ahhhhhh!


Yeah. They just love me....

Anyway, like I said, other than offending the boys' delicate sensibilities, it went fine.

The place I took them to runs a smooth, efficient operation.

Though they process two or three hundred chickens there every Saturday morning, you would never know it from the look or the smell or the sound. It was quiet, it was clean, it was neat. Nothing behind closed doors, either, so you can see every step of the process, if you're so inclined.




So here they are  all buckled in and ready to go.
And I can now add feathers and chicken sh** to the stuff in my car that shouldn't be.

The drop.

Loaded back into the car for the ride home.
A little quieter. A little less poopy.

And then I came home, put one in the crockpot, a couple in the fridge, and the rest in the freezer.

And when the first chicken finished cooking and cooling, I pulled the meat off the bones and bagged it. And ate a few morsels.

And ohmygosh, YUM!


Next week I'll give you a breakdown on costs.

So what do you think? Are you proud of me? Disgusted?
Don't be shy, let me know....


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Read it. Like it? Follow it. Please? Thanks.
(Follow my blog by adding yourself as a follower with Google Friends Connect in my sidebar!)


***************************


Don't forget, I will love you forever if you throw me a vote on Top Mommy Blogs. You know the drill by now, don't you? Just click the juggling chick and you've voted. You can vote every day till like, forever.



Thanks!



***************

In case you didn't know it, I'm like the queen of blog-hoppin' lately. It's kind of like square dancing but without the dated outfits, smelly gym, and elderly caller.

Here's the schedule I keep:
Monday:
Homestead Revival's Barn Hop
Natural Living Mamma's Natural Living Mondays
The Chicken Chick's Clever Chicks
A Cat-Like Curiosity's Monday Mantras
Ponder Wonder's Soul Food Monday
@ Home Take 2's Mom's Monday Mingle
DIY Dreamer's Pinterest Repin Party
DIY Home Sweet Home's More the Merrier Monday
Tuesday:
Heavenly Homemaker's Gratituesday
Crafty Garden Mama's Tuesday Greens
The Wrinkled Mommy's Tuesday Archive Link-Up
Wednesday:
My Life and Kids Finding the Funny
Tilly's Nest's Down Home
Hey Mommy, Chocolate Milk's Mom's Library Link-Up
Crafty Spices Wordless Wednesday
Thursday:
A Rural Journal's Rural Thursday Blog Hop
Two In Diapers' Mommy Brain Mixer
Friday:
Deborah Jean's Dandelion House's Farmgirl Friday
Fresh Eggs Daily's FarmGirl Friday
Little Becky Homecky's Fantabulous Friday
@Home Take 2's Weekend Blog Walk
Oh So Amelia's Friday Chaos
Saturday:
Camera Critter's Life With Dogs Pet Blogger Hop
Tutus and Tea Parties' Pinteresting Party
Sunday:
Dawn's Disaster's Super Sunday Link


Come join the fun!

*************

Rudeness disclaimer:

I love all your comments,
I read every one!
But I can't hit 'reply',
I've no time for fun.
Please don't judge me,
Please don't hate.
If you have a question that just can't wait,
Send me an email at farmbeachgal@yahoo.com,
And I'll answer right back because I'm, you know, the Mom.

Sunday Social - Ozzy

Next one down on my siggy line...

Anne,
Wife of Fred for 23 years
Mom of:
Patrick (17)
James (17)
Rosie (14)
Bella(14)
Julie (13)
Daniel (12)
My children around the world:
Milly in Taiwan
Eun Hae in South Korea
Felice in Hong Kong
Nadya in Germany
Obrin in New York
And our critters Blue, Sunny, Cindy-Lou, Annabelle, Fiona, and Sophie; Mamfy, Mali, Milky and Punkin; Nick; Frog 1; Charlie and Dizzy; Minnie and Alice; Elfie, Frex, Crope, Tibbett and Ozzy; Genevieve, Pippin and Finnegan; and a dozen or so chooks.


Is Ozzy.
















Ozzy is one of the twin kids born to our nanny goat Elfie, who came to us pregnant.

He's, lemme think, I guess he'd be about five years old now. Wow. Can't believe he's that old!

Anyway, he and his brother Houdini were born without incident or fanfare on a cold night in January. Ozzy and Houdini were opposites in every way possible. One solid black, one all white. Ozzy is as friendly as could be, but Houdini was more reserved. Ozzy was quickly claimed as a pet by Bella, but no one really wanted Houdini (he was THAT unfriendly). Sadly, Houdini, so named b/c he always got out of any enclosure he was supposed to be in, died last summer.

At least they were both grown when it happened, b/c when they were little kids they were inseparable. Ozzy didn't seem all that distressed about Dini's passing, truth be told.

And he's just as sweet and friendly as ever. Bella's little black billy goat.








Sweet and friendly, just like you when you vote for me on Top Mommy Blogs.
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Sunday Social - Crope

Next one down on my siggy line...

Anne,
Wife of Fred for 23 years
Mom of:
Patrick (17)
James (17)
Rosie (14)
Bella(14)
Julie (13)
Daniel (12)
My children around the world:
Milly in Taiwan
Eun Hae in South Korea
Felice in Hong Kong
Nadya in Germany
Obrin in New York
And our critters Blue, Sunny, Cindy-Lou, Annabelle, Fiona, and Sophie; Mamfy, Mali, Milky and Punkin; Nick; Frog 1; Charlie and Dizzy; Minnie and Alice; Elfie, Frex, Crope, Tibbett and Ozzy; Genevieve, Pippin and Finnegan; and a dozen or so chooks.

I'd like to ask God why He allows
hunger, poverty, and injustice
in the world,but I'd be afraid
He'd ask me the same thing ...




Is Crope.
















Crope is my boring-est goat.

Seriously, there's really hardly anything to say about him.

He was one of the original goat herd we got from the rescue group.

Which means I don't know how old he is.

He is healthy.

He is normal.

He doesn't know any tricks, nor is he particularly cute.

He is not friendly and wants nothing to do with people.

Like I said. He's boring.

Bleh.







Top Mommy Blogs isn't boring, though! 'Specially now that I'm on the first page! Just one click of this button (below) and you've voted. You can vote every day!



Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Sunday Social - Frex

Next one down on my siggy line...

Anne,
Wife of Fred for 23 years
Mom of:
Patrick (17)
James (17)
Rosie (14)
Bella(14)
Julie (13)
Daniel (12)
My children around the world:
Milly in Taiwan
Eun Hae in South Korea
Felice in Hong Kong
Nadya in Germany
Obrin in New York
And our critters Blue, Sunny, Cindy-Lou, Annabelle, Fiona, and Sophie; Mamfy, Mali, Milky and Punkin; Nick; Frog 1; Charlie and Dizzy; Minnie and Alice; Elfie, Frex, Crope, Tibbett and Ozzy; Genevieve, Pippin and Finnegan; and a dozen or so chooks.

I'd like to ask God why He allows
hunger, poverty, and injustice
in the world,but I'd be afraid
He'd ask me the same thing ...



Is Frex.















Frex was one of the original goat herd, as well. Since he was the biggest, and looked to be the oldest of the bunch, he got the name of Frex.

Truth be told, though, I haven't a clue how old any of 'em are. My money's on Frex, though. His crooked ol' face has a story to tell. His face runs a zig-zag course that starts at his hornless crest (the only one of our goats without a rack), and ends in his snarly mouth and nose.

Though he's the largest, by far, he's an outcast and sits morosely at the bottom of the totem pole in the caprine hierarchy of our barn. He runs from trouble (namely, Tibbett) and can usually be found grazing a stone's throw from the others.

What's his story, I wonder....

An ill-fated love triangle between Tibbett, Elfie and Frex, in which Frex lost to Tibbett in a violent knife-fight from which he barely escaped with his life?

Perhaps Frex is the scorned love-child of Elfie and Tibbett? The dirty little secret no one wishes to acknowledge?

Or maybe Frex's father lost everything to Tibbett in a scandalous drunken gambling binge. Like Hindley's Hareton, Frex is now indebted to Tibbett (Heathcliff) and will forevermore be a servant in his own house.

What do YOU think Frex's story is...?







Clue me in to Frex's life-story, and then throw me a vote for TMB by clicking this button...Thanks!

Sunday Social - Elfie

Next one down on my siggy line...

Anne,
Wife of Fred for 23 years
Mom of:
Patrick (17)
James (17)
Rosie (14)
Bella(14)
Julie (13)
Daniel (12)
My children around the world:
Milly in Taiwan
Eun Hae in South Korea
Felice in Hong Kong
Nadya in Germany
Obrin in New York
And our critters Blue, Sunny, Cindy-Lou, Annabelle, Fiona, and Sophie; Mamfy, Mali, Milky and Punkin; Nick; Frog 1; Charlie and Dizzy; Minnie and Alice; Elfie, Frex, Crope, Tibbett and Ozzy; Genevieve, Pippin and Finnegan; and a dozen or so chooks.

I'd like to ask God why He allows
hunger, poverty, and injustice
in the world,but I'd be afraid
He'd ask me the same thing ...




Is Elfie.
















Elfie was one of the four goats we got when we bought our little goat herd from the rescue group. The only doe among the group, she came with a bit of a bonus: she was pregnant. A few months later, she produced gorgeous ebony and ivory twin kids.

We (meaning I) named her Elphaba, because I had just finished reading the book Wicked, and decided to go with a whole name theme. I had Elphaba, Frex, Crope and Tibbett.

Elfie is my sweetest goatie. If I'm in the barn or in the field, she's right there beside me, trying to eat my shirt. If I have some banana peels or pizza crusts to throw out to the goats from the deck, all I have to do is yell her name, and she comes running over as fast as her short little legs can take her, with the rest of the herd in close pursuit.

She had a bad case of mastitis once, and I had to treat her with hot compresses and udder massages.

We're very close, she and I.







We can be very close, too. Just click this button to vote for me.
(No, I will not massage your udder if you vote for me.)

Sunday Social - Tibbett

Good lord, I don't even know what day of the week it is. This post was meant for yesterday.

Please forgive....

Next one down on my siggy line...

Anne,
Wife of Fred for 23 years
Mom of:
Patrick (17)
James (17)
Rosie (14)
Bella(14)
Julie (13)
Daniel (12)
My children around the world:
Milly in Taiwan
Eun Hae in South Korea
Felice in Hong Kong
Nadya in Germany
Obrin in New York
And our critters Blue, Sunny, Cindy-Lou, Annabelle, Fiona, and Sophie; Mamfy, Mali, Milky and Punkin; Nick; Frog 1; Charlie and Dizzy; Minnie and Alice; Elfie, Frex, Crope, Tibbett and Ozzy; Genevieve, Pippin and Finnegan; and a dozen or so chooks.

I'd like to ask God why He allows
hunger, poverty, and injustice
in the world,but I'd be afraid
He'd ask me the same thing ...


Is Tibbett.

















Tibbett is the Head Honcho of our little goat herd.

About five years ago, we took in four Pygmy-cross goats from a rescue group. They came from an old lady who had a few dozen goats, none of whom were fixed or vaccinated or anything. The rescue group was able to talk the woman into giving up a good number of them, and they got 'em all fixed and up to date on shots. Of the ones I took, there were three wethers (castrated males) and a doe.

Tibbett is the smallest of the bunch, but definitely the alpha. He has an impressive rack (of horns) and a handsome beard.

It wasn't easy earning his trust, and took a long while before he would let me pet him. But once he did? I learned he knew a cool little trick. If I scratch him in just the right place on his shoulder, he tilts his head back and gets this faraway look in his eyes. When I stop? He looks square at me and lifts his front leg like a dog playing shake.

But don't tell him I told you.

Like I said. Head Honcho.






No need to scratch or shake. Just click (this button).

Farm Friday - Spring is in the Air

We haven't had much of a winter this year.
Less than 4" of snowfall all season.
Pond never froze enough for skating. Not even once.

I kept hoping for that one good snowfall, but it never came.

Now it's almost March, and I give up.

I've gotta admit, all this warm sunshine does feel nice. The critters agree. The goats have been sunbathing on the rocks and the horses are shedding their winter coats like nobody's business.

And Annabelle, like always, is happy, happy.

My billy goat gruff, Tibbitt.








Annabelle. My belly button.

R.I.P. Houdini

Fred had his work party yesterday. Lovely day. Kids playing in the pool, folks eating, drinking, laughing, talking about summer plans.

At one point I was looking out to where we had thrown the spent corn cobs and watermelon rinds and noticed there were only five goats munching happily, when there should have been six.

Where was Houdini?

As is probably obvious from his name, he is is our resident escape artist. From the time he was born, he has always managed to get out of whatever enclosure he was in.

So my immediate thought was that he got himself out of where he was supposed to be and into somewhere off limits and then couldn't get back. So I went searching for him, fearing he was stuck somewhere. I looked in all the usual places to no avail. Finally thought to look in the bottom of the kids' play ship in the pasture and found him down in the hull. Dead.

Poor little guy. He was a funny goat. Not as people-friendly as some of our others, and the polar opposite of his twin brother Ozzy who is cute, friendly, and jet-black. Houdini was bigger, anti-social and snow-white. But funny.

True to his magical nature, he left me left scratching my head over how he died. Only about 4 1/2 years old, he was the picture of health, fat and happy. Coat looked good, eating well, up to date on shots and wormings. Only thing I could figure is that two nights before he died, the barn doors got broken, and I know some of the goats got out of the barn and into the workshop. No grain this time of year for him to overload on. No rat poison or anything of that nature.

But....

I've been working a lot on the hen house. When I get done working, I make sure I always take all my tools and supplies out of the barn and put them away into the workshop. So I'm wondering ... maybe he ate some nails? Could have punctured his stomach or intestines. There were no outward signs of anything, like a struggle with a dog or something.

And I've seen goats eat all kinds of things. Tin cans, spider webs, string, paper, my shirt as I'm wearing it. It's always kind of tickled me to see what-all they would consume.

But this time, not so funny.

So goodbye Houdini. Hope you're up in goat heaven, eating delectable weeds and things to your heart's content. We'll miss you ....





Here's Houdini with his Mama, when he was about 5 or 6 months old.















Here he is with his twin brother Ozzy.