Farming: A summary

Life on a small holding can be dirty, exhausting, exhilarating, but never dull. Farming is the cheeps of newly hatched chicks, watching the antics of baby piglets, eating that first tomato of the summer. It is sweating under the hot sun fixing a section of fence, carrying feed buckets in the pouring rain, shoveling mountains of manure. It is quietly milking a cow on a cool summer morning. It is burying a piglet that didn't quite make it; worrying about mastitis, injuries and parasites. It is the sweet smell of hay in a newly filled barn, the sweat of horses. It is chasing piglets through muddy pastures and cows through the vegetable garden. Sheer insanity most of the time, but we wouldn't trade it for anything.

This summer has been a busy one, too busy to be sitting inside writing blogs. The days, though long, are never long enough to do all that needs doing. This spring we hatched 21 gorgeous fluffy chicks from our laying hens- the father is Mildred- the hen that became a rooster.They are now a pretty little flock of hens (the little roosters are in the freezer.)

In July, the hottest day of the year, Winnie had 12 piglets, and Priscilla had 5. They were wonderful babies, all up and about on the first day- then the second day the skies opened and Winnie's babies nearly drowned as she had decided to have them outside in a nice little nest in the mud. Louise nearly drowned herself getting them moved to the beautiful new farrowing hut that was waiting, empty. Consequently, the runt died, and a few days later, Winnie sat on 2 more. This is normal for pigs, apparently, but still very upsetting for us. The next litters are going to be born in the barn!

We decided this summer that we would ride our horses more, and we did, riding nearly every day for at least 1 hour, getting up early to ride on those really hot days. On August 17th I started riding Darn Tootin' for the first time. He is 3 1/2 now and looks pretty good so I thought I should just start him slowly. All went amazingly well, with Jim's help. 2 weeks later I took DT to the Oxford Exhibition. He is quite the little horse, not bothered by anything. We even took a 3rd place in the Paper Towel Command class. Touche did very well in the Ex too; he is growing into a superb horse.

Now autumn is here and we have to face the reality that winter is soon to follow. The hay is in, and the wood stacked, the garden harvested ( mostly) and the turkeys and chickens processed and sold. We have kept 2 of the piglets to raise for meat, Gerald and Bernard. They are growing fast. Ethelred is now out with the 2 girls to father the next litter, which should be born in February. Buttercup is bred again and Moremeet, the calf, is getting big. The nights are getting cold and soon we will have to carry buckets instead of running the hose. Ah, winter.

Endless winter

Okay, enough already! I don't care what anyone says but February is the cruelest month, at least here in Nova Scotia. We are tired of the snow and ice and wind and rain and frozen water buckets and frozen manure and miserable goats who can't get outside to chew on trees and not being able to ride our horses and salt on the cars and whiny kids on snow days... I could go on.

Which brings me to snow days. Louise and I used to love snow days. Sit home, turn on the telly and watch some daytime tv. Eat whatever, in front of the telly. Read a book and watch the snow fall, knowing there was no where we had to go. Then we got this crazy notion that we would foster children. Don't ask me why. Some kind of shared martyr syndrome. So now we have 2 kids, a 12 year old boy and his younger sister. Snow days are completely ruined. I dread snow days! Imagine the bickering and shouting that goes on with 2 kids locked up in the house. We tried letting them watch tv all day. That just turned them into hyperactive demons. So we have to find ways to keep them busy, none of which involve us sitting in front of the tv eating junk food. In fact, since we have had the kids, we have to sneak our junk food after they have gone to bed to avoid setting a bad example.

Blizzard!!

Huge storm today. 90 km/hr winds with snow going horizontally. We were due to pick up a bale of haylage today, but decided the horses could make do with baled hay for a couple of days. With the snow drifts in our yard, there would be no getting out with the trailer anyway. Mizeri is not so happy about this development and takes out her ill-humour on her favourite target, Touché. He is still limping, but not so much, so he can hobble away from her fairly quickly. Is it cruel to keep him outside with her? They seem to have settled now and are resigned to eating their second rate hay, so we will leave them.

The rest of the critters and their slaves are inside our various homes, huddling away from the storm. We will wait it out.

Animal Adventures

It's hard to know where to begin with today's adventures. Do I start with the Great Escape? The Comedy of Errors? The Near Death Experience? or perhaps the Tale of a Curious Pup?For simplicity, let's try chronologically.

This morning I figure it was time to put Jessie, the Dewar's donkey who I have here to treat for thrush, out for some exercise. She has been in a large pen in the barn keeping her feet clean and dry but she does need to get out and it was a beautiful crisp, sunny winter's day. But where to put her? It seemed the cattle were a good option as she is used to cattle, so in she goes with Buttercup and Stewie. But no, that wasn't going to work. She kept charging at them and trying to kick Buttercup in the head. So, if she is that fiesty, let's try the horses. Miz, however, has other ideas. She's not going to let some long eared interloper into her territory. And Touche and DT are not helping matters, chasing the poor little thing, just curious, but Jessie doesn't know that. I finally settle on putting her in the orchard, where one lone hen who has wandered out into the snow was neither a threat nor an object to be bullied.

With that settled and all the animals fed and cleaned out, I am able to go into the house to enjoy my porridge for breakfast. Not for long though. I happen to glance out the window and am a little surprised to see a small black steer wandering through the Mundles' field next door. Seconds later, a little black cow scampers by. How did they get out? I think. Interestingly, neither of them seem overly comfortable with their new-found freedom and they are quite relieved when I shake a bucket of grain and call them back. Millhouse, the great big shepherd pup that we are fostering, tries to help until I put him back in the house. Eventually I convince the 2 runaways to return to their pasture. A quick investigation finds that an improperly fastened gate is the catalyst for the adventure.

The middle of the day passes peacefully enough. I head out to feed the animals early as we are expecting a couple of little foster kids for the weekend, due to arrive around 3 pm. I figure I'd get everything done that I could before they arrive. All is going well until I decide to give the horses some kelp powder. Miz loves kelp. I put a couple of cupfuls into one of the feeders and go on with the chores. I am about to go inside when I notice Miz acting strangely. She appears to be choking, attempting to vomit, getting down on the ground and rolling. Colic, I think. Quick, call the vet and get back out there and get her walking. Horses are strange creatures and when their bellies hurt they get down and roll and often get a twisted bowel, which, as far as I know, means they will die. It is one illness that all horse owners dread. The idea is to keep the horse walking so she won't go down before the vet arrives with medication. I take her out of the field and begin pacing circles around the driveway. Millhouse figures he can help too, and follows behind her, occasionally barking.

Susan, the vet, arrives in record time. She begins examining Miz, who, although looking pretty miserable, does not take kindly to all the poking and prodding. Millhouse still thinks he can be of assistance, but only manages to get himself stepped on. Yelping, he hobbles off with one paw flopping in a most worrying manner. He's gone and gotten a broken leg, I think, with only 3 more days until he goes to his new home! I have a look and although he is in pain, nothing appears to be broken. Susan will look at him later, after she saves the horse.

Susan suggests that Miz needs to be sedated for further treatment- not being the kind of horse that tolerates people poking at her, so we should move her into our one box stall. The box stall, however, is full of Nigerian Dwarf goats and their climbing toys. Quickly, I clip lead ropes on the 4 little darlings and drag them out to the cow barn and push them inside. I clear out all the steps, tables and planks that clutter the stall, and then it is ready for the horse. We bring Miz in, inject her with a sedative, and she is just getting droopy when I hear a vehicle come in, followed by the sound of a child crying. Wonderful timing, I think. Here are the kiddies and I'm standing here holding a sick, drugged horse. I rush out and speak to the social worker. Just in with a sick horse, I say. Won't be a minute!

15 minutes later, I ask Susan if she minds if I go check on the situation outside. There is the poor harried social worker with a howling toddler in each arm. Clearly, she is getting fed up. I rush into the house and phone my mother. Please can you help? Good old Mum to the rescue. Where is Louise anyway? I proceed to unload the van of all the accouterments that children seem to need and show the social worker, whose name I haven't even asked, where the toilet is as little Elizabeth needs a pee. Mum arrives. The social worker makes a quick escape from all the madness. I wonder what she will report to her superiors. May be the last foster kids we ever see! Back to the barn, where Susan is busy stuffing a tube up Miz's nose. Miz, even in her drugged stupor, is not impressed. Finally, the tube is in the right place and Susan is able to flush out the obstruction and administer some anti-gas in case of colic. We are nearly finished when Louise arrives. She clues in that there is a problem with Miz when she sees the vet's truck and only 2 horses in the field, and rushes into the barn worried that the miserable creature is on death's door.

I leave Louise to the horse and vet and go into to rescue Mum who I figure won't be coping too well with 2 unhappy children. I was right. I change diapers, wipe noses, remove jackets and find toys. Susan comes in with Louise, checks out Millhouse's paw, and gives him an anti-inflammatory to stop it from swelling. We find food for the kids, send Mum home and crack open a much needed beer. Another day at the Round House Farm.

More Evidence that Winter May be Ending

One of the first signs of impending spring in the Maritimes is rain. Torrential, cold, windy rain. This morning I looked out to see the horses huddled in their shelter, looking out longingly at the bale of haylage just out of reach. Before anyone starts feeling sorry for the poor starving creatures, I must add that they do have ordinary hay in the racks of their shelter, readily available but not half as tasty.

Once more the rain has turned the remaining ice on the driveway and yard into a treacherous expanse. Funny how such a short distance becomes terribly daunting when covered with ultra-slick ice. If someone could mimic that lack of friction, I'm sure it would have all kinds of industrial applications. The ice may be another reason the horses are not venturing out. Horses hooves are not really designed for ice walking and it is both funny and nerve wracking to watch them attempt to cross a stretch of ice. Mizeri has the technique, no doubt gleaned from her years of experience. She minces across the slippery surface without a hitch. Touché and DT, on the other hand, sort of limp along, thinking if they put less weight on their feet they won't slip. However, they still take great big strides, so every now and then they slip and have to scrabble with all 4 feet to remain upright. They both have good strong legs, or so I tell myself when I start to visualize broken limbs and bankrupting vet bills. In time, hopefully, they will learn to cope with it.

We had our seed get-together this weekend. Louise and I had already gone through our seed collection and decided we didn't need very many seeds, just a few peppers and tomatoes, one type of eggplant, some swiss chard. Oh, but sit us down in front of those glossy catalogues with a bunch of other avid gardeners and we lose all sense of prospective. I don't know how many things we are ordering but I know it is not just a 'few' of anything. It's not our fault. We have a real weakness for the heirloom varieties that are becoming more and more available in the catalogues and on the web. They have such wonderful descriptions. Tomatoes of all shapes, sizes and colours with intriguing histories. Corn that the native people grew (probably a bit like what we used to call 'cow corn' but never mind.) Lettuce, squash, spinach, berries, all with wonderful descriptions and names. Forget about the fact that we never have time in the summer to get around to harvesting and preserving let alone weed. But that's okay. Apparently geese will weed the garden....

Yet Another Snow Day

We woke up this morning to a white, wintery world, snow blowing and drifting, the morning routine made more cumbersome by the need to slog my way through the drifts. Digging out the chicken house. The horses coated with a fine layer of snow as they stand, stuffing themselves on their bale of haylage. Now there's a word that probably is not in the dictionary. A cross between hay and silage, referring to the large round, plastic wrapped bales. The grass is cut from the fields and only partially allowed to dry. It is then baled up and wrapped in plastic- our plastic is a stylish black and white striped. The grass then partially ferments, making it smell slightly sweet and alcoholic. The horses love it, and it has the added benefit of being ideal for Mizeri who is allergic to hay dust. Saves us from having to soak the ordinary bales of hay in water, a less than pleasant chore when it is minus 15 degrees outside.

Once a week we hitch our Canadian Tire utility trailer up to the Matrix and drive down to the Gulf Shore to the Irving's dairy farm to pick up a bale. That little Toyota is quite the car. A Japanese pickup- one of our friends calls it. From the day we brought it home, we have stuffed bales of hay inside, hauled 40 kg sacks of feed, saddles and other horse gear, dogs, cats, even 20 or so full grown meat king chickens on their way to the butcher. Finally we bought the trailer and many of these things can be hauled outside, rather than in, which improves the smell, particularly when transporting fowl. And now we are asking the poor little workhorse to drag 800 kg bales of haylage, and it rises to the occasion. All that and great fuel economy. Those Japanese know how to build a car.

The snow continued to drift all day. I took my life into my hands and made my way on foot up to Mum's house to feed her cats and make sure the house was still intact after the storm- not so far but the road was alternately snow filled and icy. Mum is off to central Canada, visiting the sisters, both mine and hers. The weather there is no better, apparently, bone chillingly cold. Why aren't we all sensible like my little brother and living in Florida? Sure, we pretend we wouldn't like all that warm weather. Not natural, we claim, living in a place that doesn't have a good bout of bitterly cold weather or proper seasons. Too hot in the summer. Too many bugs. Too many people- tourists. Disneyland. But to be honest, we are just terribly, terribly jealous.

So the snow kept falling, blowing, filling in the driveway that was ploughed out twice already. I guess our snowplough guy is having a prosperous season. Really, we don't mind the snow storms that much. Sure there is the back breaking chore of all that snow shoveling, but we don't have to go anywhere, or do much of anything. There is something special about being snowed in. There is nowhere you have to go, nothing you have to do. School is cancelled so we don't have to go to work. We can light the woodstove, heat up a couple of cups of hot chocolate and check out daytime TV. And we have had 6 days like this already this winter. Beat that, Florida! How many snow days do you guys get in a year? Eh?