Hen Update: Chicken Shuffle

Moxie is a juvenile Black Australorp like this one. (photo from Backyardchickens.com)

Back in May, I succumbed to second round of 2014 chick-buying and bought three new chicks:  One Silver Wyandotte, one New Hampshire Red, and one Black Australorp.  This weekend I gave the Black Australorp away to a friend who had been raising two hens within San Luis Obispo city limits and discovered an awful truth:  One of her hens, "Tammy," was actually Mr. Tammy.  And Mr. Tammy had begun crowing.

And so began a chicken shuffle of sorts.  She managed to find Mr. Tammy a home at a nearby nursery, with a nice but eccentric lady who loves having hens and roos around her plants to perform insect control and just to liven the place up a little more. (There is nothing better than shopping for landscape plants and getting followed around the place by a gang of roosters and a giant turkey, believe me.)

Once that was done, I gave my friend our Black Australorp, Moxie, since I had three new youngsters and could therefore part with one and still have two to keep each other company.  It is never wise to introduce just one young hen into an entire flock -- there is safety in numbers for youngsters when it comes to the pecking order.  And they do form close relationships with their "siblings" even if they are different breeds who've just grown up together. Cleo and Chloe are quite close, as are Portia and Ellen. And soon Callie and Ginger will join the flock and take their place on the roost with the other girls.

The real Moxie and her new friend Loretta.

The first night, Callie and Ginger were peeping a bit pitifully and looking for their friend, but by morning they seemed to have resumed business as usual. I noticed the same thing when I gave Evil Red to the winery.  Ellen and Portia seemed to notice her absence and it upset them.  So it's interesting to note the relationships that form, even between animals we don't credit for being the most intelligent of creatures.

So Moxie will now get to be Loretta's new friend.  I hope it all works out, I'm glad to have reduced my flock by one and I know Loretta will be happy with another hen to keep her company.  And hopefully my friend will be relieved she no longer has to worry about violating the city's ordinance banning roosters from within city limits, plus she'll get to sleep in a little more without Mr. Tammy greeting the dawn, too.

And since happy hens lay happy eggs, it's a win all the way around. I love happy endings.

You're Not The Only One

Ah, that title sounds like the start to a beautiful love song, doesn't it?  And love is like that .. the wondrous feeling that you'll never be alone, and that you're not the only one who may be going through challenges and tough times.

But the beauty to that sentiment is never more true than on the farm.

As I've discussed in many a blog post these last few months, everything growing (or attempting to grow) on this hill has been affected by a summer of weather-weirdness.  Our tomatoes have been especially hard hit.  They have arms but the blossoms have blown off. The ones that have stayed have produced tiny tomatoes that are incredibly slow to ripen.

But what I never realized was that maybe it was just not our little hilltop outpost that's suffering.  

We had some contractors here the other day, working on an outbuilding Big Ag is constructing, and it turns out the foreman is something of a hobby farmer himself. "So how are your tomatoes doing?" he asked me as we visited the other day.  When I informed him of the weather-related maladies we were having (due mainly to the winds we face up here, I thought), he told me that he didn't know a person in the entire county who wasn't having the same problem. 

That's right, he said the entire county was having the same problem.  I could have hugged him.

The next day, I worked at the winery, where there is also a vegetable garden which grows tomatoes.  And just to check the validity of this "entire county" thing, I took a break from pouring and went outside to check on our winery tomatoes.  They too all looked like crap.

And for some reason, this made me feel a whole lot better. In part because of a kind of "we're all in this together" camaraderie -- we can all lament the loss of our tomatoes, which is a lot better than when you have a crappy crop, but your neighbor's crop is absolutely perfect and you don't understand why.

The other part is because at least you know you didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't your soil, not staying on top of insect or bacterial pressures, or too much/not enough watering.

Sometimes you're not the only one, and there's nothing you can do about it. Except take comfort from your neighbors, who are in the same boat with you.

You don't want to wish anyone harm, but in tough times sometimes it's nice to have company.

On-line

As of the last week, both Cleo and Chloe have come "on-line" with their egg laying.  As you can see, there is a huge difference in the size of the eggs of a two-year old hen versus a six-month old one. Older hens lay less often, but they lay HUGE eggs.  Younger hens lay small-to-medium sized eggs, but those little eggs come almost daily. Ideally there are uses for both sizes.  I use the large ones for baking and the small ones for lunches -- hard-boiled eggs and what not. 

No matter what, it is definitely nice to be back in the business of daily eggs.  I have missed relying on them as a go-to meal whenever we need one.

Blogging for profit?

Soapbox rant commencing in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

The Hot Flash Homestead blog has been in existence now for just a couple of years but I've already realized that homestead blogging is something that should be done for free, rather than as a income-gathering activity.

Blogging is to writing what reality shows are to television -- in their ideal form, they are real-life, unscripted looks at how someone lives, what they think, or what they do with their time -- and while there are some reality shows which are educational (I think of the "Pioneer House" series and "Manor House" series on PBS that aired a few years ago), most are crap.  

And they're crap for the exact same reason blogging for profit produces crap:  because you need a constant stream of new "story lines" to keep the public interested.

My blog is not for profit.  My husband and I both work at regular jobs for money, which funds most of the stuff I write about. But by having my blog be a side thing I do for fun, I have more freedom. I can write about my crappy tomato harvest 17 times in a month without there being any consequences...pageview numbers and the ad revenue that depends on those pageviews isn't even on my radar screen.

Besides, why should I get paid for, basically, living my life?  When did that become a for-profit kind of thing?  And what would it do to my decision-making processes regarding my life if I had to factor in what "my audience" might think about what I'm doing?  Talk about a lack of freedom.  It's actually kind of a scary thought to imagine being beholden to a group of strangers who would judge my life and contribute, depending on whether or not they approved. Sounds more like a hostage situation to me.

And here's something else. A for-profit blog is actually nothing more than a business website in a thinly-veiled disguise. Who knows if you're mentioning your pellet stove because your pellet stove happens to be on your mind, or if maybe the company that manufactures them is cutting you a deal -- a discounted pellet stove for a certain number of blog mentions and some ad space.  And suddenly, there are pellet stove stories and mentions of it everywhere, camouflaged as "real life" stories, all crafted to get your readers thinking about that damn pellet stove and how nice it would be to have one. Seems a bit shady to me.

So if you're reading what you think is a blog, think carefully about the potential for-profit motivations that the author may have in mind as he or she is writing.  If it's homesteading information you are looking for, there are thousands of non-profit blogs like this one and YouTube videos out there, all made by people who just want to share their knowledge, their triumphs and their screw-ups, not get you to donate to them or buy something.  

And the next time you get sucked into a story line on a blog as well, consider whether or not the whole story is just a means to an end -- with the end being you writing a check to support that person, in one form or another.  If you are OK with this kind of blogging, that's great. But do keep your eyes open and know the difference between a "free read" and when you're being kept in the loop with your potential financial support, product purchases, or other business ventures in mind.

As a "word consumer" or reader, it's just something to think about.

Ghost

Enjoying some quality time with someone I can't see

So here's a fun and freaky thing that happened to me this morning:  I went out to check the chickens, and as usual, Kit, the cat from next door, came out to meow at me incessantly (which I'm sure she views as "keeping me company") while I checked nesting boxes, water and feed. 

So my back is turned to the cat and I VERY CLEARLY hear a voice say, "Well, hi there."

We have a permit inspection today on an outbuilding being constructed, so I turned around expecting to see either the building inspector or a serial killing standing there.  And I was about to scold both/either for creeping up on me.

Except there was nobody there.  But the cat had stopped meowing completely and was standing there purring, wrapped around thin air like she's the happiest creature on earth.

There are two points to this story, and I may as well come out with them now.  

First, this cat belongs to my neighbors because she lost her owner, a man stricken with cancer, a few years ago. She was given to my neighbors when he died, and apparently they were very close.

Second, I DO NOT believe in ghosts.  I believe the afterlife is so awesomely wonderful that we don't "haunt" places we once lived, although I believe there are spiritual "echoes" of a sort that can linger in certain places.

But I guess I never considered the scenario where someone returns to visit a long-lost loved one ... or a long-lost pet.

I know what I heard, and I heard it as well as if you were standing a couple of feet from me and spoke. Now the cat is out back, laying on the grass and purring contentedly, seemingly wrapped around something I cannot see.

Well alrighty then.  What else can I say? I don't pretend to have all the answers in the universe, and sometimes you just have to admit there may be more than what you are aware of going on.  I'm OK with that.

So "hi there" back at you, whoever you are.

Backing Out

A friend from 30 years ago re-acquainted herself with me via Facebook a couple of months ago.  It was a friendship that ended badly in 1989, with her dumping me via a letter sent in through the mail.  Her reasons seemed to have as much to do with superiority as anything else, like our friendship had been a competition and she was declaring herself the winner, with the new husband and baby, the house and a whole new life as the obvious proof of her success.

For years, I hesitated to make friends with other females (I had a LOT of guy friends), believing any one of them could turn on me in a heartbeat like she did and write me a poison pen letter, telling me how shitty my life was, how awesome hers was, and asking me to never contact them again -- for no actual reason other than the vague "I've changed."

But I digress.  So my friend reconnected with me.  I accepted, hesitantly.  Some uneasy (at least on my part) communication happened, and then a couple of things were said -- just offhand things -- which made me realize this was a person I would never be able to trust and if there's no trust, what's the point of having any kind of relationship?

And so I threw the proverbial car into reverse and peeled out of her life like Satan was sitting on my rear bumper. And in a way, she was. This is something I've found myself doing more and more as I get older and my intuition screams a lot louder than it used to.  It's never completely rash, I let it percolate awhile to see if it goes away or lessens. But if the red warning lights going off in my head don't let up, I get out of the situation without hesitation.

I'm pleased I had the courage to give my old acquaintance a second chance, but I'm happy I spotted her self-destructive issues a mile away and put some quick distance between me and them.

I also backed out of accepting a job offer several months ago in roughly the same way -- I had an immediate, visceral upwelling of emotion that told me this was the wrong way to go, and I listened to it. They offered to adjust my hours. I refused (politely).  They doubled the salary offer. I again refused (I was still polite, but also flattered).  And I have not regretted it for one moment.

That's because many, many other times I have not heeded those feelings and have found myself in dire circumstances.  So I guess it's safe to say that something I've learned over the years is that -- sometimes -- quitting is OK. No, it's not just OK, sometimes quitting can be the best thing you can do for yourself. It can be great. But you don't hear that very often.

That's because quitting is not in our cultural make-up.  Americans are no quitters, dammit!  We make a commitment, we stay the course, and we emerge victorious! But you don't live life as an American.  You live it as a human being.  And sometimes, backing out of a situation you got yourself into is the wisest thing you can do.

As another friend once said in the following great analogy, "If your house is on fire, there is nothing wrong with running out of it. You are not abandoning your house.  You are saving your life."  

And this happens in both big and small ways, throughout our lives. Sometimes we stay the course, and sometimes the building is on fire and we just need to get the hell out before the roof falls in on us.

I believe this also applies on the homestead.  Sometimes, things are not always worth doing badly, just to say you're doing them.  You need to be really honest with yourself about whether or not you've given it your best, but if you have and you just don't like what's going on, it's OK to change. It's OK to not grow okra if okra never works for you.  It's OK to give up soapmaking if your soap comes out like jello every time. It's even OK to give up your land if you're physically, financially, or otherwise not able to work it.

 It's also OK to just not like something enough to want to keep doing it.

Sometimes I think that we lash ourselves to the mast on too many things, and force ourselves into death marches with people, employers, and tasks that are actually replaceable with other, better things.

The Car of Life comes with a reverse gear for a reason.  You should never back out as much as you move forward in life, but sometimes you need to realize backing out of something is the only way to save your life, be it your financial life, your emotional life, or even your physical life.

Just check your mirror to make sure you're not accidentally backing into something else you don't want to run into, get yourself clear, shift back into "D," and hit the road.  

And happy motoring.

Line In The Sand

Everyone has a line in the sand which, once crossed, takes you into a behavior zone different than how you'd normally act.  In our house, for instance, we try and conserve electricity whenever possible, as do most homesteaders. Because of that, we frequently sit in an 80 degree house in summer, waiting for the sun to go down, the winds to pick up, and the temperature to drop, at which point we open the windows and let Mother Nature provide us with some free, clean and green air conditioning.

But I have my limits. 80 degrees is my line in the sand as far as the inside temperature goes.  At 81 degrees, all bets are off and I reach for the switch that will start up the air conditioning unit...the giant, electricity-sucking air conditioning unit.

As you can see, today the inside temperature hit 81 degrees, something which had not happened in 2014 until today, which is actually pretty good.  I broke a sweat, and I reached for the switch. In addition to the heat, we've also had a little monsoon moisture, which has made the air especially sticky. Sticky.  Yuck.

It's bad enough that I have my own internal summer most of the time.  When the temperature inside the house rises too much, I do what I have to do. I suppose if I were to be in a survival situation, I'd find things to help me deal with the heat, such as losing my temper with my loved ones and sulking in a sweaty heap in a cool hallway.

But until that time, I make no apologies for using the air conditioning when necessary, which can happen when the air inside reaches 81 degrees or I have a hot flash and my internal temperature flares to roughly what the surface of the sun's is.

It's called the Hot Flash Homestead for a reason, ya know.