First, Q&A time:
Hayley: I am pretty informal with curriculum since Beans is still pretty young. We read a LOT of books, I utilize lots of craft books, some preschool aged workbooks, and my mom (a Montessori teacher) has sent me a preschool Montrssori curriculum which we use some parts of. Most of our "school" stuff is arts and crafts supplies. The girls have very few toys, and they participate in all our daily activities. When we split wood, they are outside stacking. When we garden, they are there with their shovels and watering cans. We don't expect perfection, just participation. We answer all the questions (Why? Why? Why?) and when we get stuck for an answer, we look it up together or visit someone who knows the answer.
"Math" is currently explored by counting ("how many eggs did the chickens lay today? How many this week?) and with helping in the kitchen with measuring or recipes, counting plates while setting the table, etc.
I use a PBS series called "Signing Time" for teaching sing language and had to invest in a good ASL dictionary as her signing vocabulary exceeded the scope of the videos.
Hope that helps! :)
girl, I'll chat homeschool with you anytime!
Miss Liz: I have another gluten free/dairy free recipe for a focaccia styled bread. If you (or anyone else reading!) is interested, let me know and I'll post it. My kids LOVED it and ate the entire pan at lunch time. Made GOOD pb&j too!
Also, if you hve a jerky recipe, leave it in the comments. Now I'm craving it and we can't have store bought because most have soy sauce (gluten!).
Also I'm dying to know if you ever baked the muffin recipe and if you liked it. :)
Olive-somebody (I shoul jaw double checked the name, I'm sorry!): when you get to salcha, let me know! We have friends in Salcha we visit often and could probaby help you get connected. Where is your place?
JackDaddy- do I know you in real life? When were you in Montgomery? And Jack woul probably love moose. He should come stay on our farm. :)
Road Kill List Questions: I will ask hubby the full details, but there is some paperwork from the state. Anyone can fill it out, not just established charities. Delta Junction is also considered a subsistence area, so I'm not sure if that affects our eligibility? Hubby would know.
Also- SOME roadkill, not edible. But an animal as big and tall as a moose usually gets hit in the legs. Most of the meat is usually salvageable. As far as an "off" taste, I've never noticed one. The endorphins and such can't be any worse than animals slaughtered in commercial plants. Not to get all "crazy hippie" on you, but do you know that many cattle are only knocked mildly unconscious at butchering, and some don't even get knocked out! They are alive and quite cognizant of their injuries in butchering plants. I would think that gets some
endorphins going!
SOME roadkill is completely not salvageable. Something with internal injuries (especially those that cause leakage from the bladder or bowel into the muscle mass) is not considered "safe". But a moose that the troopers have to shoot because of a leg injury is really no different from a moose that is shot by a hunter (especially if there is a poorly placed first shot!)
I had to giggle about the roadkill questions. They are all the same questions I asked my husband when he went out to retrieve the moose. LOL
If I forgot anyone's question and you want it answered, leave me a comment!
***
in other news: my hens are laying! I am so thrilled. I was beginning to feel like a chicken farmer failure. Ha! I'm not!
Many chickens will meet their fate this week. We are starting to have crowding issues in the coop and the weather is getting chilly. I don't know about y'all, but I would much rather only have to get water for a dozen birds than fifty of them. If it gets about 10 degrees cooler around here, I'm
gonna have to haul water from the house, as we will have to shut off the outdoor water supply soon.
Weather has been cool and rainy. Chilly mornings (38F or so) and cool, rainy, breezy afternoons (not above 60 ish).
My kind of weather.
A pot of caribou chili simmers on the stove. The tea kettle signals that my water is ready for a thoughtful cup of Earl Grey. A young hen cackles as she marches away from the nest, victorious. The girls nap, the sky threatens to rain, and my knitting calls to me.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
What Can Be Done In A Day
Whew! We had one BUSY day here yesterday. It started with WAITING. Waiting for the dozer rental companies to call us back (they did). Waiting to see if the rain was gonna let up (it did). Waiting for the dozer to be delivered (it was, eventually).
Not a single member of our family does "WAIT" really well. Toddlers have an excuse. When you are two, a few minutes seems like the whole day will pass before you are granted your wish. The real difference between grownups waiting impatiently and kids? You can send griwnups to time out for temper tantrums when they aren't getting their way.
The dozer arrived. J rushed out the door to start knocking down the remaining forest. I watched with the girls from the safety of inside. We soon tired of being spectators, all of us except Little Nugget, who screamed in excitement every time the dozer made a pass in from of the screen door. To preserve my sanity, I took the girls upstairs. Nugget screamed in protest, pointing to the door and crying, "My papa! Vroom! Vroom!"
A short while later, the phone rang. A friend of J's. "Hey it's me. Troopers just alled me. There's a moose over here hit by a car. If you help me out, I'll split it with you."
Well.
A million questions ran through my mind at once.
Why are troopers notifying our friends of moose struck by cars?
Is this a work thing? Are there injuries?
What exactly are we splitting?
Does my husband want to hear about this 30 minutes after renting a bulldozer at $500 per day?
Then it dawned on me: if we were splitting a moose, hunting season could be over! Oh for the love of all that is good!
I threw on muck boots and made my way through why used to be forest and tundra, and tried not to get run over.
Well.
It was gonna be a late night, by we were gonna be getting half a moose. J downed a bowl of homemade refried beans and some homemade salsa. Gone in 60 seconds.
Three hours later, J and friend returned victorious. It was a good road kill moose, only the legs broken and the troopers put the poor thing out of it's misery. The rest of the job was exactly like hunting.
For those still wondering (like I was) why troopers were calling our friends, well... I learned about something else I never knew existed: The Roadkill List.
No. I'm not joking.
Apparently there is a state list you can sign up on, and when it's your turn and there is something recently deceased, the state will all you and tell you to come harvest it.
Before you start saying, "Eeeewww!" keep in mind that if the state ever calls offering up skunk or something of that nature, we will decline. But a moose? With minor injuries? Which means my husband doesn't have to spend another week away from home in search of the elusive dinner? Sign me up for The Roadkill List.
That handled, some hot coffee to warm up the "hunters" (it was raining and chilly all day yesterday) and a short visit with our friends, and J decided to skip dinner and head back out to finish the dozer work. Not a small feat, mind you. The plan was about an acre or so of heavily wooded land. I don't know when he called it quits, I just know it was nearly 1 am when he crawled into bed.
Meanwhile, another friend dropped off our caribou sausage from THAT hunting trip. I made room in the freezers, and wondered where we were going to put a moose. I might be trying my hand at canning meat this fall. Or some of the salmon taking up space in the freezer.
The girls and I ate a dinner of popcorn and fruit salad. We wandered to the chicken coop between dozer passes and made an excitig discovery:
An Egg! From one of the young hens! Hooray! Hooray!
* Today there were TWO. Hopefully this means we'll be able to stop rationing around here soon!*
* Also, the first eggs a hen lays are usually smal. They are called pee-weed. Adorable! Tiny! And still edible. We celebrated by baking gluten free flat bread with the egg today.
Us girls continued our day from inside. We felt bad for J, in the dark and the rain, but when that man wants to get something done, well... Best to just leave him to it. I made a cozy fire, snuggled with the girls and read a hundred and one bedtime stories (ok, it might have just been ten or so), tucked the girls in, and fell asleep to the sounds of the dozer.
Poor J had to get up just hours after he went to bed. Off to work for the day. He was kind enough to let the chickens out for me. I made a hit cup of coffee, watched the rain come down, and surveyed the future farmland, animal pens, play yards of Little Farm on The Tundra.
It's gonna be fun.
Once the mud settles.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Not a single member of our family does "WAIT" really well. Toddlers have an excuse. When you are two, a few minutes seems like the whole day will pass before you are granted your wish. The real difference between grownups waiting impatiently and kids? You can send griwnups to time out for temper tantrums when they aren't getting their way.
The dozer arrived. J rushed out the door to start knocking down the remaining forest. I watched with the girls from the safety of inside. We soon tired of being spectators, all of us except Little Nugget, who screamed in excitement every time the dozer made a pass in from of the screen door. To preserve my sanity, I took the girls upstairs. Nugget screamed in protest, pointing to the door and crying, "My papa! Vroom! Vroom!"
A short while later, the phone rang. A friend of J's. "Hey it's me. Troopers just alled me. There's a moose over here hit by a car. If you help me out, I'll split it with you."
Well.
A million questions ran through my mind at once.
Why are troopers notifying our friends of moose struck by cars?
Is this a work thing? Are there injuries?
What exactly are we splitting?
Does my husband want to hear about this 30 minutes after renting a bulldozer at $500 per day?
Then it dawned on me: if we were splitting a moose, hunting season could be over! Oh for the love of all that is good!
I threw on muck boots and made my way through why used to be forest and tundra, and tried not to get run over.
Well.
It was gonna be a late night, by we were gonna be getting half a moose. J downed a bowl of homemade refried beans and some homemade salsa. Gone in 60 seconds.
Three hours later, J and friend returned victorious. It was a good road kill moose, only the legs broken and the troopers put the poor thing out of it's misery. The rest of the job was exactly like hunting.
For those still wondering (like I was) why troopers were calling our friends, well... I learned about something else I never knew existed: The Roadkill List.
No. I'm not joking.
Apparently there is a state list you can sign up on, and when it's your turn and there is something recently deceased, the state will all you and tell you to come harvest it.
Before you start saying, "Eeeewww!" keep in mind that if the state ever calls offering up skunk or something of that nature, we will decline. But a moose? With minor injuries? Which means my husband doesn't have to spend another week away from home in search of the elusive dinner? Sign me up for The Roadkill List.
That handled, some hot coffee to warm up the "hunters" (it was raining and chilly all day yesterday) and a short visit with our friends, and J decided to skip dinner and head back out to finish the dozer work. Not a small feat, mind you. The plan was about an acre or so of heavily wooded land. I don't know when he called it quits, I just know it was nearly 1 am when he crawled into bed.
Meanwhile, another friend dropped off our caribou sausage from THAT hunting trip. I made room in the freezers, and wondered where we were going to put a moose. I might be trying my hand at canning meat this fall. Or some of the salmon taking up space in the freezer.
The girls and I ate a dinner of popcorn and fruit salad. We wandered to the chicken coop between dozer passes and made an excitig discovery:
An Egg! From one of the young hens! Hooray! Hooray!
* Today there were TWO. Hopefully this means we'll be able to stop rationing around here soon!*
* Also, the first eggs a hen lays are usually smal. They are called pee-weed. Adorable! Tiny! And still edible. We celebrated by baking gluten free flat bread with the egg today.
Us girls continued our day from inside. We felt bad for J, in the dark and the rain, but when that man wants to get something done, well... Best to just leave him to it. I made a cozy fire, snuggled with the girls and read a hundred and one bedtime stories (ok, it might have just been ten or so), tucked the girls in, and fell asleep to the sounds of the dozer.
Poor J had to get up just hours after he went to bed. Off to work for the day. He was kind enough to let the chickens out for me. I made a hit cup of coffee, watched the rain come down, and surveyed the future farmland, animal pens, play yards of Little Farm on The Tundra.
It's gonna be fun.
Once the mud settles.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Monday, September 6, 2010
Guess Who's Not Gonna Be A Dairy Farmer
So our being able to consume dairy was a false alarm. It took a couple weeks to build back up in Little Nugget's system, and now we are back to managing severe tummy troubles and other issues.
Incidentally, we also had a gluten exposure, so Beans and I are itchy, scratchy, tummy troubled gals.
What I can say is this: after months without dairy, I thought I would really be excited to delve back into a world of cheese, yogurt, and ice cream but you know what? It wasn't really as good as I remember.
So, I don't ever have to worry about milking a cow at 40 below.
***
The chickens were granted a stay in their death sentences. We ended up knocking out a closet in our living room instead. We have discussed knocking out the closet before, but didn't plan on it being any time soon. After a leisurely morning of playing with the kids, we decided (at 5:00 pm) that the closet should go. So it did.
Demolition and clean up only took a couple hours.
This project added about 8 sq ft to the cabin. This is a lot when your cabin is already only 850 sq ft.
Other changes to the living room involves rearranging the furniture, then decking we are completely done with the television.
Um, this decision may have had something to do with an almost three year old shriekig at the top of her lungs, "I WILL SO watch tv whenever I want and you get my movie RIGHT NOW!"
Hmph.
Daddy wasn't having that little number, and within moments, the flat screen was in a box and in the crawl space.
Oh.
***
The chickens also avoided sudden death today because J helped some friends move into their new home. By the time he got home and remembered thy he wanted to rent a dozer tomorrow to flatten the property, well... Let's just say he's STILL outside getting the rest of the brush cleared in preparation for that. No time for chicken killing.
***
The rest of the farm work is slowly grinding to a halt. A recent cold snap killed off the remaining pumpkin vines (sans pumpkins), and "Tommy Boy" (one of the turkeys who really does look like a fat man in a little coat) got to the last of my green onions. There are still three rows of potatoes to dig up and process, and a handful of tomatoes in the greenhouse trying to decide if they are goig to ripen or give up the ghost. The chickens continue to eat grain an feed without desire to earn their keep. A light and a timer will go
in the coop this weekend, as our daylight hours will finally fall below 14 hours of light.
Now is the season of "puttering".
The time of year where you wander around on the homestead trying to find work with a purpose. Aside from splitting and stacking wood, or making minor repairs, there's not a LOT of work to do. Or I should say, what's left is little tasks- draining and storing hoses, emptying the flower pots, pick up odds and ends debris, but mostly just take in the crisp fall air and wait for everything that's left to die or get buried in snow. There's still enough outdoor work (and sunshine with nice temps) left that you can't justify hunkering down indoors with winter projects, but not enough work to stay perpetually busy. Back in the south, that's what college ball was for.
I puttered a lot today. Let the girls play in the yard, watched J load brush on the trailer. Poked around in the chicken yard and watched Ricky Bobby try to woo the young hens, most of whom are undecided about chicken sex thus far. Enjoyed the fresh air, took in the scenery. Missed tailgate parties a little bit, then puttered around a bit in what's left of the garden. Was glad to go in and get supper on the table. (Salmon, peas, and potato salad, followed up with gluten free/ dairy free chocolate cake and coffee). Called a friend in the lower 48. Puttered some more.
Sure hope we can get a dozer in here tomorrow. All the puttering is driving me crazy. I'm ready for the next big project.
Meanwhile, it is time to sharpen the hatchet.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Incidentally, we also had a gluten exposure, so Beans and I are itchy, scratchy, tummy troubled gals.
What I can say is this: after months without dairy, I thought I would really be excited to delve back into a world of cheese, yogurt, and ice cream but you know what? It wasn't really as good as I remember.
So, I don't ever have to worry about milking a cow at 40 below.
***
The chickens were granted a stay in their death sentences. We ended up knocking out a closet in our living room instead. We have discussed knocking out the closet before, but didn't plan on it being any time soon. After a leisurely morning of playing with the kids, we decided (at 5:00 pm) that the closet should go. So it did.
Demolition and clean up only took a couple hours.
This project added about 8 sq ft to the cabin. This is a lot when your cabin is already only 850 sq ft.
Other changes to the living room involves rearranging the furniture, then decking we are completely done with the television.
Um, this decision may have had something to do with an almost three year old shriekig at the top of her lungs, "I WILL SO watch tv whenever I want and you get my movie RIGHT NOW!"
Hmph.
Daddy wasn't having that little number, and within moments, the flat screen was in a box and in the crawl space.
Oh.
***
The chickens also avoided sudden death today because J helped some friends move into their new home. By the time he got home and remembered thy he wanted to rent a dozer tomorrow to flatten the property, well... Let's just say he's STILL outside getting the rest of the brush cleared in preparation for that. No time for chicken killing.
***
The rest of the farm work is slowly grinding to a halt. A recent cold snap killed off the remaining pumpkin vines (sans pumpkins), and "Tommy Boy" (one of the turkeys who really does look like a fat man in a little coat) got to the last of my green onions. There are still three rows of potatoes to dig up and process, and a handful of tomatoes in the greenhouse trying to decide if they are goig to ripen or give up the ghost. The chickens continue to eat grain an feed without desire to earn their keep. A light and a timer will go
in the coop this weekend, as our daylight hours will finally fall below 14 hours of light.
Now is the season of "puttering".
The time of year where you wander around on the homestead trying to find work with a purpose. Aside from splitting and stacking wood, or making minor repairs, there's not a LOT of work to do. Or I should say, what's left is little tasks- draining and storing hoses, emptying the flower pots, pick up odds and ends debris, but mostly just take in the crisp fall air and wait for everything that's left to die or get buried in snow. There's still enough outdoor work (and sunshine with nice temps) left that you can't justify hunkering down indoors with winter projects, but not enough work to stay perpetually busy. Back in the south, that's what college ball was for.
I puttered a lot today. Let the girls play in the yard, watched J load brush on the trailer. Poked around in the chicken yard and watched Ricky Bobby try to woo the young hens, most of whom are undecided about chicken sex thus far. Enjoyed the fresh air, took in the scenery. Missed tailgate parties a little bit, then puttered around a bit in what's left of the garden. Was glad to go in and get supper on the table. (Salmon, peas, and potato salad, followed up with gluten free/ dairy free chocolate cake and coffee). Called a friend in the lower 48. Puttered some more.
Sure hope we can get a dozer in here tomorrow. All the puttering is driving me crazy. I'm ready for the next big project.
Meanwhile, it is time to sharpen the hatchet.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Shadows
Whoo knows what evils lurk?
*snort*
9 pm. After playing 20 questions with a toddler who didn't care that it was bedtime or that her sister was trying to nurse and sleep, everyone is finally tucked in.
Outside, Alaska makes it's presence known. Night is returning. The 9 pm sky was dusky enough to cause the shadows to play tricks on me. Every dark patch is a potential moose, bear, or wolf. Simple things like a chicken squawking because it was locked out of the coop make you jump out of your skin. I hurried through outside evening chores. Didn't pet chickens or talk to the turkeys as usual. Wanted to get back to the house before the shadows ate me. With the chickens locked up in their coop, I scurried up the path to the house, a watchful eye on the treeline, a skittish glance around the corner of the house to make sure the water was turned off.
Only once I was safely on the front porch did I pause to really survey the scenery. The dark of twilight gave sharp contrast to the yellow hues of the birch and cottonwood trees. Details like peeling bark stand out against those same spooky shadows. A glint of light off an owl feather high in the spruce trees makes me glad the chickens are tucked away. "That's MY dinner" I say out loud to the night predator.
Smoke curls from the neighbor's chimney. Wood smoke is carried through the damp chill of the autumn-like night. I take a deep breath of it. Damp, smoke, rotting leaves, wet dirt, and even yucky chicken yard... I love this season.
I survey the 2.65 acre homestead and think about tomorrow's work. Much to do.
Meanwhile, I should head in and build a fire. It was 36F this morning when I let the chickens out. There was ICE in their waterer. No doubt now. Summer days, driftin' away. That's okay by me. I'm ready to settle down for the big chill.
Farm work is calling this week! We'll begin by butchering a few chickens tomorrow. By Tuesday evening, we'll be eating from our own stock. (For farm rookies, "resting" the meat after butchering makes it more tender. I could tell you the science of that but don't want to offend anyone's taste for meat.) It's a bittersweet occassion for me. I tried hard, but I admit that I love all my little birds. Even the surly rooster that really needs to be butchered because he's come after me twice. He has a name, but I can't print it. Poor guy. He's first on the chopping block.
*Ricky Bobby might be spared. He's a good rooster. It's a toss up between him and another really good fellow. *
We'll only be butchering a few birds- mostly roosters and the Cornish Rocks that were selected as meat birds from the start. We'll do the major culling and butchering once we establish a good laying flock. Still waiting for eggs from the freeloading hens.
Once butchering is done, we'll finish clearing off a portion of the land and try to get a bulldozer in here to level it off. Once that is done, we may be able to get the flock to higher ground.
The potatoes will be harvested this week. The rest of the garden was ripped out and will be tilled under, along with a blend of poo to fester under the snow all winter long. Maybe then we'll get a better garden. If I can get them in time, I'll try to put in garlic starts.
Then, the task that will continue until it's too cold to be outside (because it will neve be "done")- splitting and stacking wood. And even when it's too cold to be outside, J will likely continue to split and stack wood, because it will still need to be done. Me? I'll be knitting by the fire, or homeschooling at the kitchen table, or watching reruns of my favorite Little House episodes on DVD.
I should be reviewing butchering instructions in our poultry raising library.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
*snort*
9 pm. After playing 20 questions with a toddler who didn't care that it was bedtime or that her sister was trying to nurse and sleep, everyone is finally tucked in.
Outside, Alaska makes it's presence known. Night is returning. The 9 pm sky was dusky enough to cause the shadows to play tricks on me. Every dark patch is a potential moose, bear, or wolf. Simple things like a chicken squawking because it was locked out of the coop make you jump out of your skin. I hurried through outside evening chores. Didn't pet chickens or talk to the turkeys as usual. Wanted to get back to the house before the shadows ate me. With the chickens locked up in their coop, I scurried up the path to the house, a watchful eye on the treeline, a skittish glance around the corner of the house to make sure the water was turned off.
Only once I was safely on the front porch did I pause to really survey the scenery. The dark of twilight gave sharp contrast to the yellow hues of the birch and cottonwood trees. Details like peeling bark stand out against those same spooky shadows. A glint of light off an owl feather high in the spruce trees makes me glad the chickens are tucked away. "That's MY dinner" I say out loud to the night predator.
Smoke curls from the neighbor's chimney. Wood smoke is carried through the damp chill of the autumn-like night. I take a deep breath of it. Damp, smoke, rotting leaves, wet dirt, and even yucky chicken yard... I love this season.
I survey the 2.65 acre homestead and think about tomorrow's work. Much to do.
Meanwhile, I should head in and build a fire. It was 36F this morning when I let the chickens out. There was ICE in their waterer. No doubt now. Summer days, driftin' away. That's okay by me. I'm ready to settle down for the big chill.
Farm work is calling this week! We'll begin by butchering a few chickens tomorrow. By Tuesday evening, we'll be eating from our own stock. (For farm rookies, "resting" the meat after butchering makes it more tender. I could tell you the science of that but don't want to offend anyone's taste for meat.) It's a bittersweet occassion for me. I tried hard, but I admit that I love all my little birds. Even the surly rooster that really needs to be butchered because he's come after me twice. He has a name, but I can't print it. Poor guy. He's first on the chopping block.
*Ricky Bobby might be spared. He's a good rooster. It's a toss up between him and another really good fellow. *
We'll only be butchering a few birds- mostly roosters and the Cornish Rocks that were selected as meat birds from the start. We'll do the major culling and butchering once we establish a good laying flock. Still waiting for eggs from the freeloading hens.
Once butchering is done, we'll finish clearing off a portion of the land and try to get a bulldozer in here to level it off. Once that is done, we may be able to get the flock to higher ground.
The potatoes will be harvested this week. The rest of the garden was ripped out and will be tilled under, along with a blend of poo to fester under the snow all winter long. Maybe then we'll get a better garden. If I can get them in time, I'll try to put in garlic starts.
Then, the task that will continue until it's too cold to be outside (because it will neve be "done")- splitting and stacking wood. And even when it's too cold to be outside, J will likely continue to split and stack wood, because it will still need to be done. Me? I'll be knitting by the fire, or homeschooling at the kitchen table, or watching reruns of my favorite Little House episodes on DVD.
I should be reviewing butchering instructions in our poultry raising library.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Wood Rich
Some years ago, a song called "Hood Rich" was a big 'thang'. Not my particular genre, but it was popular during my paramedic days. In Montgomery, AL. So of course, my work partner and I knew all the words.
This song randomly came up in my head today while stacking firewood. That's the only reason I mention it.
Sometimes, when performing an otherwise mundane chore (like stacking firewood), I amuse myself by doing random calculations in my head. I stacked 2 cords of wood today. Going rate for firewood is $250/cord. Between J cutting, hauling, and splitting and me splitting (or splintering) and stacking, we saved ourselves $500. And that's just the first pile of wood we put up.
We are hoping to hav 10-12 cords of wood set up before winter hits.
And we have a head start on next year's wood. All the trees we cut down while clearing land this year has been cut and stacked on the side of the property, creating a wall of wood along the property line.
Other calculations for the day (interpretation: more mundane tasks):
- clean chicken coop: priceless. Seriously.
We built the coop in spring. We covered the roof with plastic until we had time to shingle it. That project fell to the wayside. A recent wind storm (which rivals a few of the tropical storms we experienced in the south) tore the plasic all to bits. We removed the remaining plastic and planned to put up shingles on Wednesday. Unfortunately, the rainy season started on Sunday. Translation: water filled chicken coop.
Anyone who has experince with chickens knows that a chicken coop doesn't smell pretty even at it's very best. Add water, wet hay, wet feathers, mud, and wet manure... Oh my. Disgusting.
We spent the morning tacking up new plastic (in the rain). Then we finally decided we needed to expand the chicken run, because, well, the yard was also flooded. In fact, the yard was essentially mud, straw, and poop. Lots of poop. Chicken yard expanded (in the rain). The chickens are eternally grateful. They ran for higher ground and cackle ridiculously at me until their coop was shoveled and dried out and reparations made. Translation: fresh grain of their choosing and lots of salad greens from the fridge. The roosters also demanded a romp with the hens through the potato patch. Poor potatoes!
I spent the afternoon continuing to muck the coop and find suitable dry bedding. Also fancied up the nest boxes in an attempt to make the hens find it desirable to lay some eggs. Dang freeloading hens. J laughed at me for hanging curtains in the nest boxes. For the record, I have read an heard on good authority that the hens like some privacy for laying. And the darker, cozier environment should keep potential egg eaters out of the nest. J still laughed at the fact that the chickens have curtains and our cabin doesn't. I told him to go be productive. (Or something to that effect.)
J decided to till up the muddy chicken yard. For the record, um, yuck.
The chicken yard is now tilled up mud, straw, and poop. We desperately searched our resources for absorbent materials. We made a haybale walkway surrounding the coop. We dumped sawdust into the soggiest spots. I suggested digging a pond. My suggestion was not well received from the guy cleaning chicken manure and mud off his brand new tiller.
I decided NOT to mention that I had requested a different location for the coop when we built it. I decided NOT to mention that I had pointed out the extremely wet mud pit (the kind that sucks your boot off your foot) right in front of the coop when "they" decided to build it there anyway. I'm not sure the poop covered guy would have been thrilled about a poorly timed "I told you so".
I finished the coop decor and went back to stacking wood.
In the rain.
Priceless. Though I'll be happy to have shingles on the roof as soon as we hit a dry spell.
Land clearing continues. J and the chainsaw are good pals. Rumor has it that he may be ready to rent a 'dozer next week. IF he's not moose hunting instead.
Today is Open Season (moose). Delta Junction is one happening place. Hunters from all over AK are in our woods, trying their luck.
I pulled a 2 gallon pail worth of potatoes out of two rows today. Time to try some
of those recipes.
Jack's Daddy: I liked the 'recipe' you posted, but did you know that McDonald's lists "dairy" and "wheat" (gluten) as INGREDIENTS in their French fries? How weird is that?!? Silly me. I thought French fries were potatoes, oil, and salt.
Oh! Anyone who wants a dog but isn't allowed to have one because your husband doesn't want one (or anyone who just likes
dogs, especially labs) should check out dailydoseofjack.blogspot.com
I confess to shamelessly using Jack as my virtual dog.
Mis Liz: if I could get my hens to lay me eight eggs, your breakfast casserole would be at the top of my list! I might halve the recipe an give it a try, because it sounds so yummy!
Ok. Time's up! Time to tuck babies and birds into their nests for night-night. Then some sleep for this coop muckin', curtain hanging, poop tilling, potato digging, wood stacking TIRED woman!
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
This song randomly came up in my head today while stacking firewood. That's the only reason I mention it.
Sometimes, when performing an otherwise mundane chore (like stacking firewood), I amuse myself by doing random calculations in my head. I stacked 2 cords of wood today. Going rate for firewood is $250/cord. Between J cutting, hauling, and splitting and me splitting (or splintering) and stacking, we saved ourselves $500. And that's just the first pile of wood we put up.
We are hoping to hav 10-12 cords of wood set up before winter hits.
And we have a head start on next year's wood. All the trees we cut down while clearing land this year has been cut and stacked on the side of the property, creating a wall of wood along the property line.
Other calculations for the day (interpretation: more mundane tasks):
- clean chicken coop: priceless. Seriously.
We built the coop in spring. We covered the roof with plastic until we had time to shingle it. That project fell to the wayside. A recent wind storm (which rivals a few of the tropical storms we experienced in the south) tore the plasic all to bits. We removed the remaining plastic and planned to put up shingles on Wednesday. Unfortunately, the rainy season started on Sunday. Translation: water filled chicken coop.
Anyone who has experince with chickens knows that a chicken coop doesn't smell pretty even at it's very best. Add water, wet hay, wet feathers, mud, and wet manure... Oh my. Disgusting.
We spent the morning tacking up new plastic (in the rain). Then we finally decided we needed to expand the chicken run, because, well, the yard was also flooded. In fact, the yard was essentially mud, straw, and poop. Lots of poop. Chicken yard expanded (in the rain). The chickens are eternally grateful. They ran for higher ground and cackle ridiculously at me until their coop was shoveled and dried out and reparations made. Translation: fresh grain of their choosing and lots of salad greens from the fridge. The roosters also demanded a romp with the hens through the potato patch. Poor potatoes!
I spent the afternoon continuing to muck the coop and find suitable dry bedding. Also fancied up the nest boxes in an attempt to make the hens find it desirable to lay some eggs. Dang freeloading hens. J laughed at me for hanging curtains in the nest boxes. For the record, I have read an heard on good authority that the hens like some privacy for laying. And the darker, cozier environment should keep potential egg eaters out of the nest. J still laughed at the fact that the chickens have curtains and our cabin doesn't. I told him to go be productive. (Or something to that effect.)
J decided to till up the muddy chicken yard. For the record, um, yuck.
The chicken yard is now tilled up mud, straw, and poop. We desperately searched our resources for absorbent materials. We made a haybale walkway surrounding the coop. We dumped sawdust into the soggiest spots. I suggested digging a pond. My suggestion was not well received from the guy cleaning chicken manure and mud off his brand new tiller.
I decided NOT to mention that I had requested a different location for the coop when we built it. I decided NOT to mention that I had pointed out the extremely wet mud pit (the kind that sucks your boot off your foot) right in front of the coop when "they" decided to build it there anyway. I'm not sure the poop covered guy would have been thrilled about a poorly timed "I told you so".
I finished the coop decor and went back to stacking wood.
In the rain.
Priceless. Though I'll be happy to have shingles on the roof as soon as we hit a dry spell.
Land clearing continues. J and the chainsaw are good pals. Rumor has it that he may be ready to rent a 'dozer next week. IF he's not moose hunting instead.
Today is Open Season (moose). Delta Junction is one happening place. Hunters from all over AK are in our woods, trying their luck.
I pulled a 2 gallon pail worth of potatoes out of two rows today. Time to try some
of those recipes.
Jack's Daddy: I liked the 'recipe' you posted, but did you know that McDonald's lists "dairy" and "wheat" (gluten) as INGREDIENTS in their French fries? How weird is that?!? Silly me. I thought French fries were potatoes, oil, and salt.
Oh! Anyone who wants a dog but isn't allowed to have one because your husband doesn't want one (or anyone who just likes
dogs, especially labs) should check out dailydoseofjack.blogspot.com
I confess to shamelessly using Jack as my virtual dog.
Mis Liz: if I could get my hens to lay me eight eggs, your breakfast casserole would be at the top of my list! I might halve the recipe an give it a try, because it sounds so yummy!
Ok. Time's up! Time to tuck babies and birds into their nests for night-night. Then some sleep for this coop muckin', curtain hanging, poop tilling, potato digging, wood stacking TIRED woman!
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
Thursday, August 26, 2010
One Potato, Two Potato, Three Potato, MOOSE!
That's a recipe for moose stew. Just in case you are having better luck hunting than we are.
I jest.
Actually, that seems to be what is in our garden. I can't recall if I mentioned the humble potato patch. The story goes like this: Never ask you husband to accompany you to the garden store in spring. He might be overwhelmed with all the choices of possible potato crops and decide you need to plant 15 pounds of seed potato.
For non-gardener types, that's a LOT of potatoes. I think I planted 60-70 potato plants. Considering that each potato plant yields 2-6 potatoes, I would say that I would be doing MY part, should we end up in another potato famine. Since that does not seem overwhelmingly likely, I am turning to readers for help.
Please, for the love of all that is good, post potato recipes in the comments. I welcome any and all recipes, though I would prefer not to eat potato soup from now until next year's harvest.
And anyone that knows ways to preserve or store potatoes, speak up. I have so many potatoes that I don't even think I will be able to give them away. (As a side note: family should cautiously open Christmas gifts this year. You all like potatoes, right?? Yup. You can thank me later.)
Meanwhile, a moose has been holding me hostage. It started with J, who decided to cut down a large number of trees on the property. (This decision was in response to several complaints from a wife about not being able to see wildlife lurking in the woods, as well as requests for more farmland. All of my good garden space was taken up by yukons, reds, and bake kings. Ahem.)
I digress.
J proceded to cut down the forest. I can officially see the wildlife lurking about. Um, the wildlife is also wildly attracted to those delectable birch, willow, and cottonwood leaves that were JUST out if reach on those trees. Cutting down the forest essentially the same as opening a Golden Corral in your backyard for the moose, only without the $9 cover charge. A huge cow moose has been grazing for a few days. While this provides lovely photo ops, it also prohibits being able to turn little girls loose to rIde bikes, play in the yard, or even the ability to allow the farmer to let chickens in or out in a timely manner. Apparently, the moose's favorite dining times coincide with exactly when Ricky Bobby likes to be let out, and about the same time as te hens like to be locked back in.
*sigh*
She is a good size moose, and several times a day I lament the fact that we don't live in a hunting area, and that you can't just go shooting a cow moose. (Restrictions apply). It would make hunting season so easy. And so OVER. And it would be a nice addition to the potatoes. Alas, I must relinquish my husband to the woods for yet another week, to try his luck.
This is why it is called "hunting" and not "shooting".
In other news, the chickens are frustrating me. I want eggs. The older hens are going through a molt. I am rationing the precious eggs. I refuse to buy them. I have chickens. It would be insane to buy eggs, right? The young hens seem to be more interested in downing bag upon bag of organic feed, with no thought to how they plan to repay the debt. I am starting to notice decent sized drumsticks on them all.
The rest of the farm is slowing down. Other than harvesting potaotes and allowing Beans and Nugget to raid what's left of the snap pea vines, there is little left growing. Some ailing carrots, some beets and lettuce (all bolting and destined for the chicken coop), a handful more onions, and some ailing pumpkin vines that have flowered but have little interest in forming actual pumpkins (so it seems). The greenhouse holds a few more tomatoes trying to ripen, a cucumber or two, and a handful more carrots, but it is not likely to produce much more.
I've come to terms with a token nod from the garden this year. Fir our first year breaking ground, and managing the garden among toddlers, well...
At least there is the potatoes.
Next year holds better planning, and better soil. I hope.
There is a more permanent chill in the air. The woodstove seems to be in operation at least once a day for a short fire to knock the chill off. The last couple days have not even crept above 60. The next few weeks will be spent dismantling the garden... Harvesting what's left, somehow preserving it, then tilling in all that lovely byproduct of chicken farming.
And stacking wood. Lots and lots of stacking wood.
A cool breeze stirs up outside. I sip an Earl Grey tea and watch the moose taunt Ricky Bobby. I can hear him
clucking his disapproval at her mere precense in the garden. I chuckle and wonder if she would eat some of the potaotes for
me. The wood fire crackles. The house smells like autumn. I decide to pull a chair close to the door so
I can knit as I watch the moose eat what's left of the forest. I hope she moves on before dark, so I can get the birds back
in the coop.
I look forward to potato recipes from y'all! Extra "points" if they are gluten free, but Nugget has recovered from the dairy allergy, so we gladly welcome cheesey, milky deliciousness with our potatoes! And if your recipe contains gluten, don't panic. Post it anyway. I'm good at adapting, at least in the kitchen. Any superb recipes we try will ge reprinted here with appropriate credit and honorable
mention on the blog! That goes for preserving tips as well.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
I jest.
Actually, that seems to be what is in our garden. I can't recall if I mentioned the humble potato patch. The story goes like this: Never ask you husband to accompany you to the garden store in spring. He might be overwhelmed with all the choices of possible potato crops and decide you need to plant 15 pounds of seed potato.
For non-gardener types, that's a LOT of potatoes. I think I planted 60-70 potato plants. Considering that each potato plant yields 2-6 potatoes, I would say that I would be doing MY part, should we end up in another potato famine. Since that does not seem overwhelmingly likely, I am turning to readers for help.
Please, for the love of all that is good, post potato recipes in the comments. I welcome any and all recipes, though I would prefer not to eat potato soup from now until next year's harvest.
And anyone that knows ways to preserve or store potatoes, speak up. I have so many potatoes that I don't even think I will be able to give them away. (As a side note: family should cautiously open Christmas gifts this year. You all like potatoes, right?? Yup. You can thank me later.)
Meanwhile, a moose has been holding me hostage. It started with J, who decided to cut down a large number of trees on the property. (This decision was in response to several complaints from a wife about not being able to see wildlife lurking in the woods, as well as requests for more farmland. All of my good garden space was taken up by yukons, reds, and bake kings. Ahem.)
I digress.
J proceded to cut down the forest. I can officially see the wildlife lurking about. Um, the wildlife is also wildly attracted to those delectable birch, willow, and cottonwood leaves that were JUST out if reach on those trees. Cutting down the forest essentially the same as opening a Golden Corral in your backyard for the moose, only without the $9 cover charge. A huge cow moose has been grazing for a few days. While this provides lovely photo ops, it also prohibits being able to turn little girls loose to rIde bikes, play in the yard, or even the ability to allow the farmer to let chickens in or out in a timely manner. Apparently, the moose's favorite dining times coincide with exactly when Ricky Bobby likes to be let out, and about the same time as te hens like to be locked back in.
*sigh*
She is a good size moose, and several times a day I lament the fact that we don't live in a hunting area, and that you can't just go shooting a cow moose. (Restrictions apply). It would make hunting season so easy. And so OVER. And it would be a nice addition to the potatoes. Alas, I must relinquish my husband to the woods for yet another week, to try his luck.
This is why it is called "hunting" and not "shooting".
In other news, the chickens are frustrating me. I want eggs. The older hens are going through a molt. I am rationing the precious eggs. I refuse to buy them. I have chickens. It would be insane to buy eggs, right? The young hens seem to be more interested in downing bag upon bag of organic feed, with no thought to how they plan to repay the debt. I am starting to notice decent sized drumsticks on them all.
The rest of the farm is slowing down. Other than harvesting potaotes and allowing Beans and Nugget to raid what's left of the snap pea vines, there is little left growing. Some ailing carrots, some beets and lettuce (all bolting and destined for the chicken coop), a handful more onions, and some ailing pumpkin vines that have flowered but have little interest in forming actual pumpkins (so it seems). The greenhouse holds a few more tomatoes trying to ripen, a cucumber or two, and a handful more carrots, but it is not likely to produce much more.
I've come to terms with a token nod from the garden this year. Fir our first year breaking ground, and managing the garden among toddlers, well...
At least there is the potatoes.
Next year holds better planning, and better soil. I hope.
There is a more permanent chill in the air. The woodstove seems to be in operation at least once a day for a short fire to knock the chill off. The last couple days have not even crept above 60. The next few weeks will be spent dismantling the garden... Harvesting what's left, somehow preserving it, then tilling in all that lovely byproduct of chicken farming.
And stacking wood. Lots and lots of stacking wood.
A cool breeze stirs up outside. I sip an Earl Grey tea and watch the moose taunt Ricky Bobby. I can hear him
clucking his disapproval at her mere precense in the garden. I chuckle and wonder if she would eat some of the potaotes for
me. The wood fire crackles. The house smells like autumn. I decide to pull a chair close to the door so
I can knit as I watch the moose eat what's left of the forest. I hope she moves on before dark, so I can get the birds back
in the coop.
I look forward to potato recipes from y'all! Extra "points" if they are gluten free, but Nugget has recovered from the dairy allergy, so we gladly welcome cheesey, milky deliciousness with our potatoes! And if your recipe contains gluten, don't panic. Post it anyway. I'm good at adapting, at least in the kitchen. Any superb recipes we try will ge reprinted here with appropriate credit and honorable
mention on the blog! That goes for preserving tips as well.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails!
Friday, August 20, 2010
Mending
I am on the mend. I'm not (much) of a complainer when I'm sick, but this one has been a toughie! Yesterday, J even called out from
work to take care of me and the girls, as I pretty much hit that level of sickness where you just become good for nuthin'.
J did a great job. The girls were happy to have their Pappa home. The chickens didn't starve. I didn't have to make my own hot tea. Other than nursing Nugget, nothing was required of me. Other than being woken up a few times by Beans to find out if I was feeling better, I slept most of the day away.
Oh, that was nice.
Feeling better is nicer, though. And while I'm not 100%, I am better than good for nuthin', so J headed off to work while i begged the girls back to bed. "We are laying in bed like slugs today!" I declared.
They weren't buying it, though they did humor me for a short while. And they were content to have a low-key day today.
The weather helps.
Yup. I'm gonna say that autumn is creeping in on us.
The temps hover in the 60s. The nights dip into the 40s. Dark happens each evening, earlier and earlier each day. The chickens turn in to roost before I even head out to lock them up for the night. They fluff their feathers in a huff at the chilly air I let into the coop in the morning.
As I went about the daily chores, I noticed the leaves turning yellow, and noticed more than a few piles of leaves falling to the ground.
This IS my favorite time of year.
When J called from work today, we found ourselves simultaneously longing for hot apple cider. I'll have to see if I can find some this early in the year. Now if I could just find a pumpkin patch, I would feel complete.
Alas... I've had no luck locating one in Interior Alaska. (Though I am futiley trying to grow them in my garden!)
As the sun sinks in the backyard, I realize it won't be long before I need a lantern to accompany me to the hen house at night. And a coat.
We had a fire in the wood stove last night. A little too warm by the time we were settled, really, but the season is coming.
***
For those who have asked:
No, we haven't gotten Internet at home. The iPhone manages to pick up the 2G network (yes, the TWO G), as long as the wind isn't blowing too hard. (No. I'm not kidding. Or exaggerating.) Hopefully that explains the sudden increase in typos, strange formatting, and occassionally bizarre sentences and words that don't make sense (darn you, auto-spell!) They drive me crazy, too. I am normally WAY too fussy and ahem, retentive, to tolerate poor grammar, incomplete thoughts, or otherwise incongruent writing. Unfortunately, if I try to spell-check, proofread, or edit, strange and bizarre things happen- like my posts get eaten.
Farm News:
the old hens are coming out of their egg strike. Thank goodness. I actually had enough eggs to scramble some
the other day, instead of rationing them out for baking.
The new hens are still not laying.
It shouldn't be long though... The new roosters are desperately trying to court the ladies. This is a sure sign that the roosters think the gals are old enough to start leaving the potential next generation in the nest boxes.
Also, the new roosters have been testing out their vocals. Seems we have four new roosters in our flock. Their pathetic new crows are giving Ricky Bobby the fits. He spends most of each day at the fence that separates him from these new "enemies", crowing out his own place in the barnyard, and puffing himself up to look twice his actual size. Poor fellow. I remind him several times a day that these new boys are stewpot bound. He cares not.
Cock-a-doodle-do.
I hope our neighbors don't hate us by butchering time.
Getting dusky. I am off to tuck the hens into bed before it gets too dark.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
work to take care of me and the girls, as I pretty much hit that level of sickness where you just become good for nuthin'.
J did a great job. The girls were happy to have their Pappa home. The chickens didn't starve. I didn't have to make my own hot tea. Other than nursing Nugget, nothing was required of me. Other than being woken up a few times by Beans to find out if I was feeling better, I slept most of the day away.
Oh, that was nice.
Feeling better is nicer, though. And while I'm not 100%, I am better than good for nuthin', so J headed off to work while i begged the girls back to bed. "We are laying in bed like slugs today!" I declared.
They weren't buying it, though they did humor me for a short while. And they were content to have a low-key day today.
The weather helps.
Yup. I'm gonna say that autumn is creeping in on us.
The temps hover in the 60s. The nights dip into the 40s. Dark happens each evening, earlier and earlier each day. The chickens turn in to roost before I even head out to lock them up for the night. They fluff their feathers in a huff at the chilly air I let into the coop in the morning.
As I went about the daily chores, I noticed the leaves turning yellow, and noticed more than a few piles of leaves falling to the ground.
This IS my favorite time of year.
When J called from work today, we found ourselves simultaneously longing for hot apple cider. I'll have to see if I can find some this early in the year. Now if I could just find a pumpkin patch, I would feel complete.
Alas... I've had no luck locating one in Interior Alaska. (Though I am futiley trying to grow them in my garden!)
As the sun sinks in the backyard, I realize it won't be long before I need a lantern to accompany me to the hen house at night. And a coat.
We had a fire in the wood stove last night. A little too warm by the time we were settled, really, but the season is coming.
***
For those who have asked:
No, we haven't gotten Internet at home. The iPhone manages to pick up the 2G network (yes, the TWO G), as long as the wind isn't blowing too hard. (No. I'm not kidding. Or exaggerating.) Hopefully that explains the sudden increase in typos, strange formatting, and occassionally bizarre sentences and words that don't make sense (darn you, auto-spell!) They drive me crazy, too. I am normally WAY too fussy and ahem, retentive, to tolerate poor grammar, incomplete thoughts, or otherwise incongruent writing. Unfortunately, if I try to spell-check, proofread, or edit, strange and bizarre things happen- like my posts get eaten.
Farm News:
the old hens are coming out of their egg strike. Thank goodness. I actually had enough eggs to scramble some
the other day, instead of rationing them out for baking.
The new hens are still not laying.
It shouldn't be long though... The new roosters are desperately trying to court the ladies. This is a sure sign that the roosters think the gals are old enough to start leaving the potential next generation in the nest boxes.
Also, the new roosters have been testing out their vocals. Seems we have four new roosters in our flock. Their pathetic new crows are giving Ricky Bobby the fits. He spends most of each day at the fence that separates him from these new "enemies", crowing out his own place in the barnyard, and puffing himself up to look twice his actual size. Poor fellow. I remind him several times a day that these new boys are stewpot bound. He cares not.
Cock-a-doodle-do.
I hope our neighbors don't hate us by butchering time.
Getting dusky. I am off to tuck the hens into bed before it gets too dark.
Until Next Time,
Happy Moose Trails
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