Everybody Wants to Be a Chicken

Over these past several weeks, I have been privileged to observe animal behaviors, the most amusing of which are behaviors that we typically associate with an animal other than the one performing the action.

Exhibit A:  One day when I was cleaning all the goat poop off their feeding trough (ewww, I know), I tipped it over to facilitate my cleaning and discover a hidden chicken roost.  Evidently, the chickens had been stealing away to the goat trough to lay their eggs underneath it.  I mean, there must have been more over a dozen eggs stashed under there, those sneaky chickens!  Thenceforth, I included it in my daily duties of egg collecting to check under the trough.  One of those days, I knelt down and reached under the trough to retrieve any eggs only to find Sunny, the creamy yellow colored cat sitting on top of the eggs!  When he knew he was found out, Sunny ran for it and I have not since caught him trying to hatch any eggs.  Part of me still wonders if a cat could hatch a chicken's egg. . .

Exhibit B:  I have already described how Luna, that playful young cow, at times behaves like a dog.  She frolics, she loves to be scratched behind the ears (as I've discovered most cows do), she will even come up to me to rub her head on me, insisting on a good petting.  Now is the time to tell of another cow, a couple other cows as a matter of fact, Autumn, the sweat, affectionate, very social and loves people cow, and Princes the much bigger and much less friendly, distant cow.  As I was walking home through the field in which they graze (mostly just to say hello to my Awesome Autumn), I caught Princess grooming Autumn.  Now I know cats groom each other, and I know apes and chimps and other such primates groom each other, but it had never occurred to me that cows groom each other too.  Princess was in full lick-down mode on Autumn's neck area, which makes sense I guess, since I am fairly certain that cows cannot reach their own necks for cleaning.

Exhibit C:  This story involves some prerequisite information.  In the state of Indiana (or at least in this area, I'm not sure if it's state-wide), it is currently illegal to keep chickens in your back yard if you live in the city limits.  Around here, people who wish to have backyard chickens have been campaigning and working with their local politicians to pass an ordinance allowing people to raise chickens in their backyard.  People choose or desire to keep chickens in their backyard for various reasons, including economical ones; a healthy chicken will lay approximately one egg a day, times that by, say, twelve chickens, and you get a fresh dozen every day.  Although the pro-chicken discussion is well underway, it is at the moment still illegal.  Quite recently a couple who were keeping backyard chickens got busted and had to get rid of their chickens (there are 24 of them plus a duck; I imagine that many would be a bit difficult to conceal in town) so they called Charlotte and a few days later Prairie Winds Farm was the happy home of 24 new chickens and a boy duck.  That day as we were moving the chickens from the truck cage to the grazing coop-mobile-thingy, I not only learned how to grab a chicken (by their feet and upside-down so they don't flap around and hurt themselves or you; it's similar to grabbing a cat by the scruff--it doesn't hurt them and makes them less likely to hurt you), but also I got thoroughly covered in chicken poop.

Chicken poop, however is not the point of this story; the point of this story is Duncan, as I decided to call him.  Duncan the Duck.  Duncan came with the chickens; he was raised and grew up with these chickens.  It follows logically, or psychologically, that he believed he was a chicken and he would not be separated from his dear chickie friends.  We tried to keep him separated from them, but he just wallowed and waddled around their cage, crying to be let in and he paid absolutely no attention to the two female ducks roaming around the farm.  It was pitiful.  So pitiful that Charlotte gave in and let him back in with his friends.  We tried to integrate him with his duck-hood psychologically and physically a few days later.  At first he just stayed close to his chicken friends, but then we purposely set him near the two other ducks; many times we had to chase him back to his species companions.  By the end of the day, we were fairly confident that Duncan realized that he was not a chicken that he was, in fact, a duck.  He is as happy a duck as he was a chicken, more so even, and we are happy too because now that we have a male duck to go with our females, we can have ducklings!

Helen

One of the greatest gifts of living and working at Prairie Winds Farm is Helen.  Helen is Charlotte's 77 year old mother who lives right next door to the farm and who is, in a word, awesome.  Her heart is as open as her door as she lets a room in her house for interns.  Helen has played host to any intern needing accommodations and currently, this describes me.   She gives free reign of the house without asking much in return aside from opening tricky jars, or helping her put on a dust ruffle every now and then.  One day I took her to the grocery store and we returned not only with a few groceries for her, but also with a healthy supply of juice for me plus a chocolate bar (O happy indulgence!).  The next time she went to the store (I didn't go with her), she brought a chocolate bar back  for me.  Helen's thoughtfulness and generosity make my heart joyful.  It has only been recently, however, that I have discovered in Helen a good friend and a kindred spirit.   We spent much of this past Saturday singing old songs together; Helen would pick up where I left off or couldn't remember more lyrics and vice versa  .  The sweet melodies of "Lemon Tree," "Would You Like to Swing on a Star," "Blue Skies" and the like carried us happily through potentially mundane tasks and bonded us together in the mutual enjoyment of each other's company.  I said to Helen that I feel like we are BFFs and she replied, "Well we are."

I have to admit that living with someone's elderly parent does not sound too exciting, but I can only rejoice and thank the good Lord for putting such a delightful person in my life.  It is a joy for me to be able to do things for Helen and to help her out and I am glad for those opportunities.  God has also taught me through this relationship to enjoy people.  For instance, running errands for/with someone might be a hassle or bothersome to do, but if I allow God's grace to enter, the entire "chore" becomes an opportunity inspired by grace to spend time with a truly wonderful person.  We need only eyes to see it, to see God's world instead of eyes that only focus inward to see "my world."  Lord, help us all to recognize the gifts you give us.

For unto you a child is born

. . . a baby calf, that is, on the farm of Prairie Winds.  Today, field cow, Opal, gave birth to an adorable baby girl.  But first let me give you a little background on Opal.

Opal and I have become buddies ever since I started to save my morning banana peels and feed them to her as I walk up the driveway.  I have found her waiting expectantly for me even when the other cows are elsewhere in the field.  One day I stopped by the fence and she came trotting over from the middle of the field to snag that tasty treat.  Opal lets me pet her even when I don't have peels for her.  The other cows are not nearly as enthusiastic about the banana peels as Opal is, and so it has been that our friendship was born of the banana peel.

So you see that Opal and I are friends and that she has endeared herself to my heart.  Therefore, it was much to my surprise (we didn't think she was due until May) that I got a text at 3:17 this afternoon which read "Opal had her calf!"  I immediately put down my current book, Les Miserables (and I'm on the really good part too), raced down stairs, pulled on my coveralls, coat and hat and headed to the field where Opal and her calf were just standing there as though it had been this way for days already.  Our first order of business is to get mama and calf out of the cold and into a stall inside the barn.  This seemingly simple task is complicated by two factors: 1) baby cow is not an expert walker yet and 2) Mama doesn't want to go anywhere.

I don't know how many of you have ever been around a new-born cow, but when I think "baby," I think little tiny, disoriented, perhaps slimy, eyes still shut, fumbling around infant animal.  I do not think of a walking, independently mobile, and self-willed animal who is furry and roughly the size of many of our full-grown sheep and goats, or a large dog (think doberman pincer size).  So I guess this calf had been born a few hours ago, but still, that is either pretty quick development or cows are just born a little less helpless than most other species' infants.

Back to the main objective: to transport Opal and calf inside the barn.  At first we tried to pick up the calf only to discover that the calf was far too heavy to carry all the way to the barn.  Then we tried to sit her on a sled and give her a ride to the barn.  This attempt failed because, like I said, this calf was independently mobile and did not like to sit in the moving sled.  Then we tried scooting the calf along from the rear and this is the approach that gave us our most success.  Now, all we had to worry about was getting Opal into the barn. I should mention that up until now, we had been laboring under the assumption that where baby goes, mama will go, as guided by her natural, protective instincts, of course.  This assumption quickly proved to be quite mistaken.  As it turns out Opal was much more difficult to persuade toward the barn than her calf was.  We couldn't push her because, well she weighs at least 1000 pounds.  We couldn't gently guide her because she's in crazy-mama mode!  As I walked toward her, she walked away.  At this point, I am lamenting not having any banana peels on hand with which to entice her.  Charlotte (who is the amazing farmer I am working with, btw) yelled instructively at me not to let her get away, so I ran after her.  It turns out cows are faster than people, or at least Opal is faster than I am.  We thought Opal wouldn't run past the horses because she would be scared of them.  Opal didn't care about those darn horses, she was getting away!  Finally she ran herself to the dead-end of the little pasture avenue and I caught up with her.  At this point I have learned that if I go toward Opal, she will run away from me, so I chase her all the way back down the pasture avenue toward the barn.  As Opal's trot increases, I have to run faster too, lest she gain enough distance and evade me yet again.  I chug along as speedily as the mire in which I tread allows me, my rubber galoshes sinking into a hearty mixture of mud, snow, melted snow and poo.  The thaw of the day lends itself to make this earthy concoction just the right consistency to stick to my boots with every down step and fling up across my back with every lifting of my heal, which become increasingly more forceful the faster I attempt to run.

At long last Opal and her calf are situated in a comfy stall, freshly strewn with a nice bedding of sawdust.  Charlotte and I look on with satisfaction and tenderness at mama-cow and baby-cow.  What is in store for this brand-new calf?  She is slated to become a dairy cow (a happy one of course, not one of those sad ones you see from the huge factories).  I have proposed we name the calf  Hermione; I don't think I've got Charlotte sold on the name just yet, but Hermione gets my vote.

Morning Report: Part II

Field cows: check; turkeys: check.  Those are the easy ones; I don't even have to feed them.  Now you can all follow me as I stroll on down to the chicken coop.  First things first, I let the 40 or so chickens out of the coop (that's where most of them spend the night) then I check for morning eggs of which there can be as many as 6 or none at all.  Then I go into the barn and mix up the secret recipe chicken feed (it's not really a secret recipe, but that does make it sound more exciting) and bring it out to the chickens who fall all over themselves to gobble down the corn and wheat nibblets.  All in all the chickens are pretty cool; they give us yummy nutritious eggs everyday and some will even let you hold and pet them.

Next I feed the horses (there are 6) who would trample me if I just walked in with a bale of hay so I give them what I call "distraction hay."  "Distraction hay" is about 1/4 a bale over the fence by the chicken coop and another 1/4 bale over another part of the fence; this way, when I unlock the gate and go to put the full bale in the trough, most of them are happily chowing down on the distraction hay.  Then I have to tie the bale to the trough so the horses don't drag it all over the place.  Feeding horses can be very perilous work.  They operate in a hierarchy and the "top dog"--or top horse if you will, always gets the first pick.  It goes on down the line like this; each horse shooing the lesser horses out of his or her way until the bottom horse (that's Julie) either has to be very sneaky or very patient.  But watch out! if one of the horses realize that Julie is in his or her food zone, a person who is not paying attention could get him or herself smashed by a horse.  Let me just put you all at ease and say that this has never happened to me; I was carefully instructed where to stand and how to watch while around the horses.

As if the possibility of being trampled by horses wasn't exciting enough, now I will move on to the adventurous part of the morning.  I head to the next fenced enclosure to feed the goats (6), the sheep (9, but three graze in the field because they got too fat) and two cows.  One of these cows, Luna, the beautiful brunette cow, I have been assigned to spending time with.  She is young and still a bit wild so my job is to "people" her, i.e. get her used to being around and being touched by people.  This is an awesome assignment.  Luna is ADORABLE!  She loves to be scratched behind the ears and sometimes she she frolics (mostly when I have food scraps to share).  The goats are for the most part very friendly, not easily scared, are escape artists and evidently love to eat cat food (as the cat food is where the goat who occasionally sneaks into the barn as I am hauling out a bale of hay races to).  The goats are quick and they are nimble and, they can be really gross.  They will jump on top of their trough and even stand on the bale as they are eating the hay and, disgustingly, have been known to poop right on top of their food!  The boy goat is the worst offender.  The poor little sheep get pushed around by everybody, but then, they are much too timid for their own good.  The sheep are mostly scared of me and will run away if I cross their path and they will wait to eat until I leave sometimes.

Last but not least (in my mind, but probably least as far as importance on a farm goes) are the cats.  There are 5 barn cats who hang out in the barn and have been vying  for my attention every time I have had to walk through the barn during the morning feeding.  I pet them and talk to them and since I am a cat person, give them some of the attention for which they are so desperate.

I do one more round of the chickens to see if anybody has laid some more eggs while I have been about my business and head up to the house, with my collection of eggs in hand, to see what other kind of exciting work I will be getting into that day.  On my way up to the house I pass the 2 ducks, who waddle away as quickly as they can, and the 2 geese have gotten into the habit of hissing at me.  Let's just say the water fowl are not my favorite farm animals though I like them just fine when I see them in the wild.  Oh, and I pet Tess, the dog, who rolls over on her back when she sees me to get a good belly rub.

This is what I get to do every morning; in my opinion a very fine start to the day: a brisk walk, greeted good morning by the cows, fresh eggs, the mutual respect of horses, kitty cats who love me, spunky goats, cute sheep and a cow who acts like a dog; I mean, what's not to love?  I am in love with this life I am leading!

The Morning Report: Part 1

Some of my favorite work is hanging out with the animals which I get to do when I feed them every morning.  Let me walk you through the AM Feeding.  As I walk up the driveway (I am staying next door to the farm, so it’s a short walk away) the 3 field cows welcome me to work.  They never say much, but they definitely take notice of me as I walk past on the other side of the fence.  They follow me with their big, friendly cow eyes.  I am really starting to consider cows as adorable creatures.  Next, as I near the edge of the fenced in pasture, the 3 turkeys are waiting at the corner to laugh at me.  I have decided that whoever thought that turkeys made the sound "gobble, gobble" did a very poor job of properly characterizing their sound.  I cannot exactly onomatopeoize the sound turkeys make; I can only describe it as a very loud giggle.  What's more is that they all somehow secretly know when the others are going to giggle because all 3 of them break out into this turkey laughter at the same time as if on cue.  It makes one a little uncomfortable, like when you walk into a room and everyone laughs as though they had been talking about you.  Aside from this turkey giggle-not-gobble, I find turkeys to be curious creatures.  They always follow you around; they want to know what is going on.  I now understand the meaning of calling someone a turkey.  They also sleep up high; they spend the whole day walking around on the ground but when it’s bed time I find them, without fail, perched on a fence or chicken coop roof.  Those turkeys.

The Will Of God (for now) In My Life

I came to this farm why? Because I read a book? And I care about my food? Because I long for simplicity? Yes, but that is not all. I came to this farm because my heart was directed by God in this direction. I do not know the big, the real, the deeper reason I am here, but it is not for me to know right now. It is for me to trust God and to go everywhere he guides me, to the mountains, to the shores, to the city, to the farm. I have never been sorry for following God's will no matter the difficulty or pain. I have always found friendship, love, truth and encouragement which heal the brokenness I find within myself. So while I think that, "hey, this is a good idea!" I can not answer the question "what's next?" It is enough for now to know that I followed God's will for me, to the farm. My heart is happy and rejoices in God the Creator who I meet everyday in my work.

Day One

• I fed the animals, by myself.
• I went on a milk run.
• There was a momentary issue with an escapee goat, but I corralled her back to where she was supposed to be with surprisingly little ado.
• I got shocked by the electric fence. Twice.
• Cricket the tiny dog did not bark at me but instead welcomed me when I arrived.
• I have never felt so much like I belong so quickly. It warms my heart and inspires me.