giving my girls a late night snack
april captures me taking a picture of her bees
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
hanging with my chicas
giving my girls a late night snack
april captures me taking a picture of her bees
Monday, April 12, 2010
Turkey-huntin' and Bee-hivin': Part 1
The alarm went off well before dawn on Saturday. It was the first day of wild turkey hunting season, and since we bought this place everyone from family to the DirectTV guy have asked and hinted for permission to hunt our land. We had already promised access to our friend Barlowe, who came up and walked the land with Jon last week looking for turkey scratchings and scouting for the perfect place to blast Tom. So Jon arose very early to don his camo and prepare to go sit in the woods and not say anything for 6 hours. I got the rare treat of stretching each one of my limbs into a quadrant of the bed and snuggling back down to sleep, until the dogs decided to jump up and cut the circulation off my legs by draping themselves over each knee. I finally got up and regained use of my limbs from the canine crushing crew in order to do morning chores and set up my beehives.
We had picked the bees up from Miller Bee Supply in Wilkesboro on Friday: 2 packages of bees weighing 3 pounds each. The queen for each hive was packaged in a smaller box with 3-4 attendants. I had also bought screened bottom boards for each hive to replace the solid boards that came with my hive packages. These screened boards are the latest in varroa mite management, and allows the mites to fall onto the ground below instead of reinfecting the bees, and without chemical that may breed resistance. So I had to hustle to paint the exterior of these new screens before I could assemble the hive. So after letting the chicks out and feeding them, grading the ground for the hives, and painting the boards, I literally sat. down. to. watch. paint. dry. Throughout the morning, I heard various turkey calls and gunshots echo up the ridge and across the various hollars (hollows) around our place, and wondered if any of those were from Jon’s piece bagging us a bird.
Now, growing up in the country, I have been around guns since before I was old enough to know what they are. Gunshots echoed through the woods all the time as I would play outside. Kids are handed their first gun here when they are strong enough to hold it, and it’s never a toy Red Ryder, but usually a little .22 varmint plinker, so you typically knew a shooter was someone who learned at their daddy’s knee how to use it and had common sense not to do anything stupid—in most cases. In contrast, hearing gunshots in San Francisco always gave me chills because you knew the intended target was not a 10-pointer! Here though, the opening day of deer season meant a 40% drop in school attendance that day, and on occasion, the hooky-player returning to school at 3 pm to show off the kill in their truck bed in the parking lot as school lets out! At my school, we were required to take Hunter Education as part of our 9th grade Health and PE class (a fact which tended to elicit surprise and/or stifled guffaws in California at my backwoods, banjo-picking roots), and after the daily pop quiz on how to build a duck blind or indentify animal scat, the lecture would inevitably dissolve into a storytelling session between the junior backwoodsmen and our teacher, a gruff, slightly inappropriate anger management-class-dropout with a twisted sense of humor and a fuse the size of my pinky toenail.
So I graded the land and stacked the hive parts that Jon and I had so painstakingly assembled with glue and nails on those cold winter evenings. I had found the perfect area to put them: close to our raised beds and front orchard, facing southeast in line with early sunlight to rouse them to start working before the nectar evaporates in the mid-morning, but with tree cover enough to offer them dappled sunlight in the mid-day. As I finished the assembly, the dogs started barking and howling toward the back portion of our land, and up strode Jon and Barlowe... To "bee" continued...
We had picked the bees up from Miller Bee Supply in Wilkesboro on Friday: 2 packages of bees weighing 3 pounds each. The queen for each hive was packaged in a smaller box with 3-4 attendants. I had also bought screened bottom boards for each hive to replace the solid boards that came with my hive packages. These screened boards are the latest in varroa mite management, and allows the mites to fall onto the ground below instead of reinfecting the bees, and without chemical that may breed resistance. So I had to hustle to paint the exterior of these new screens before I could assemble the hive. So after letting the chicks out and feeding them, grading the ground for the hives, and painting the boards, I literally sat. down. to. watch. paint. dry. Throughout the morning, I heard various turkey calls and gunshots echo up the ridge and across the various hollars (hollows) around our place, and wondered if any of those were from Jon’s piece bagging us a bird.
Now, growing up in the country, I have been around guns since before I was old enough to know what they are. Gunshots echoed through the woods all the time as I would play outside. Kids are handed their first gun here when they are strong enough to hold it, and it’s never a toy Red Ryder, but usually a little .22 varmint plinker, so you typically knew a shooter was someone who learned at their daddy’s knee how to use it and had common sense not to do anything stupid—in most cases. In contrast, hearing gunshots in San Francisco always gave me chills because you knew the intended target was not a 10-pointer! Here though, the opening day of deer season meant a 40% drop in school attendance that day, and on occasion, the hooky-player returning to school at 3 pm to show off the kill in their truck bed in the parking lot as school lets out! At my school, we were required to take Hunter Education as part of our 9th grade Health and PE class (a fact which tended to elicit surprise and/or stifled guffaws in California at my backwoods, banjo-picking roots), and after the daily pop quiz on how to build a duck blind or indentify animal scat, the lecture would inevitably dissolve into a storytelling session between the junior backwoodsmen and our teacher, a gruff, slightly inappropriate anger management-class-dropout with a twisted sense of humor and a fuse the size of my pinky toenail.
So I graded the land and stacked the hive parts that Jon and I had so painstakingly assembled with glue and nails on those cold winter evenings. I had found the perfect area to put them: close to our raised beds and front orchard, facing southeast in line with early sunlight to rouse them to start working before the nectar evaporates in the mid-morning, but with tree cover enough to offer them dappled sunlight in the mid-day. As I finished the assembly, the dogs started barking and howling toward the back portion of our land, and up strode Jon and Barlowe... To "bee" continued...
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Snake Slayer
Well the inevitable finally happened, I lost another chicken from my brood. The culprit was a monster 5 and a half foot black snake. He paid dearly for his dinner this evening. It went down like this, I had been planting peppers and tomatoes into the "salsa" raised bed for about 3 hours this afternoon and figured I should check on the girls. I try to make a habit of counting my chickens anytime I go out to the coop to make sure none are missing or hiding or in this case, eaten. I had been in and out of their outdoor play area 3 times filling their food and replenishing their water when I realized I was stuck on 23 chickens. Looking over the flock more carefully, I spied a large, shiny black shape amidst my girls up against the wall of the coop. I got over my disbelief quickly and realized it was an enormous black snake swollen wide after eating one of the hens. I wasn't as freaked out as I should have been, I was pissed off. I strode back to the house to grab some weaponry and called April's brother to ask which caliber suited chicken eating snakes the best. He told me .38 special would be overkill and to go for the .22 or a hoe. I thanked him for the advice and grabbed the Ruger 10/22 and made haste back towards the coop, on the way I grabbed the hoe just to be sure. When I arrived back at the scene of the crime, I was amazed to see my bird brained ladies standing all around the massive snake. One may have been perched on his bloated body but I was really not that interested in how dumb the chickens were, I was out for blood. I cocked the slide on the Ruger and leveled it against the intruder, the first shot went through the fat part of the snake in case my chicken was still suffering being digested alive. Then I left off three to the dome of the black bastard. To my amazement that just seemed to piss him off, he started slithering towards me and hissing. After emptying the clip into the serpent terminator, I was wishing I had brought the .38 revolver. I had another clip in my pocket but I was concerned about ricochet since the snake had advanced up against a metal plate I had used to seal off the bottom of the coop (without much success, apparently.) Instead, I grabbed the hoe, raised it and brought it down like an executioner; the hoe struck the snake and the metal plate about equally causing blood and sparks to fly like an Ozzy Osborne concert. When I was fairly sure that the killing machine was dead, I scooped it with the hoe and brought it outside the coop. I went back to the house to get my camera, a tape measure and a beer. While inside, I decided to go a quick Google search on how to preserve a snakeskin, thinking a hat band or belt would make a nice trophy. Once I returned for the triumphant photo-op, I was dismayed by the snake's inability to lay still. Out of mercy, I popped a few more rounds through his noggin to hasten his demise but he continued to writhe and slither out of my attempts to pose him against the tape measure.
I finally gave up and decided to take the boys down to the creek to cool off since it was near 90 degrees again. While we were walking back to the house, I heard April coming up the drive and hustled up to the garage to show off. She isn't normally too fond of snakes but made an exception for this one since he was dead.
I was determined to not let the terminator go to waste, so after a little more research I got down to the business of skinning and preserving his exterior.
Borax is supposedly one of the tricks of the trade for taxidermists, so once I peeled the epidermis off the viscera I tacked the skin to a piece of wood and coated liberally with 20 Mule Team powder. I left it to dry in my truck bed and after about a week of sun, I'm planning on making it nice and pliable with some glycerin skin lotion.
For those who hate snakes as much as my wife here's a butterfly chaser...
I finally gave up and decided to take the boys down to the creek to cool off since it was near 90 degrees again. While we were walking back to the house, I heard April coming up the drive and hustled up to the garage to show off. She isn't normally too fond of snakes but made an exception for this one since he was dead.
I was determined to not let the terminator go to waste, so after a little more research I got down to the business of skinning and preserving his exterior.
Borax is supposedly one of the tricks of the trade for taxidermists, so once I peeled the epidermis off the viscera I tacked the skin to a piece of wood and coated liberally with 20 Mule Team powder. I left it to dry in my truck bed and after about a week of sun, I'm planning on making it nice and pliable with some glycerin skin lotion.
For those who hate snakes as much as my wife here's a butterfly chaser...
Saturday, April 3, 2010
The Woodchipper
So we finally rented the woodchipper on Friday morning, I was pretty stoked about finally transforming the two epic woodpiles into mulch to go around our raised beds. We needed to fuel up our bodies before we started the rental clock ticking at $20 an hour, so we decided to stop for some breakfast on the way to Valley Rentals. Breakfast at Hardee's. A Hardee's packed to the gills with rejected extras from "The Hills Have Eyes 3". Damn, I may not leave the farm much but I felt like I was a tourist in a foreign land or watching the hyenas devour something at a zoo. There was a line at least 20 deep of people who could not wait to lay their paws on blueberry glazed biscuits or biscuits & gravy or ultimate loaded biscuits, which is what I ended up ordering. How can you go wrong with 4 different kinds of pig on a freshly baked biscuit? It was Good Friday and school was out for the day and it seemed like half of Caldwell County had decided to take the young'uns out for a breakfast celebrating Easter and pork. I can't front though, my biscuit was tasty and we departed full of the potential energy necessary to chip wood on a 90 degree day.
Let me introduce ya'll to the Bandit Model 85XL, capable of handling branches up to 6'' in diameter. On the way home, while towing this bad boy, April mentioned the movie "Fargo" at least twice.
Once we had got it up the steep driveway to the first pile of branches, we began to realize just how hot it was. Got out the Peltor hearing protection we use when we shoot and covered up the target area with a tarp for easy cleanup. It was chipping time, firing up the beast and cranking up the throttle I felt the same way I did when I watched "Conan the Barbarian" for the first time. We fed a few of the larger sticks through to get a sense for the machine and then proceeded to violate nearly all of the safety directions on the sticker next to the intake by reaching in to force larger and larger piles of wood debris through the mangler.
We got through the first brush pile in about an hour and were ready to move on to the pile on our "back forty." The main concern was whether we would be able to get the woodchipper back there and then turned around to tow it back out. We plotted a course and were pleasantly surprised by how easy it was to get the woodchipper over some rough terrain and in place by the second pile.
After laying some landscaping plastic down where we intended the woodchips to go, we fired up the beast again and resumed chipping. It was easily the hottest day of the year and by this point we were both sweating up a storm and feeling the effects of the heat and humidity. Manhandling large logs and gathering little sticks into piles sufficient to stuff down the maw of the Bandit XL is tough under the angry spring sun. We were on the clock so breaks weren't really in the gameplan, but ended up being necessary to avoid heatstroke. We got through the pile and I ventured out into the woods to see if I could find anything else to chip. I wanted to make full use of the chipper while we had it. A couple of the logs I found just were too much for the Bandit so we set them aside to use as retaining walls for the mulch. We decided to wrap up the operation after about 5 hours and towed the Bandit back to the rental place after topping up the gas tank which was almost empty by that point. We didn't get around to spreading the woodchip mulch until today but were pretty happy to cover up all that landscaping fabric with something a little classier. Here's a little taste of the mulched goodness now surrounding the raised beds:
Let me introduce ya'll to the Bandit Model 85XL, capable of handling branches up to 6'' in diameter. On the way home, while towing this bad boy, April mentioned the movie "Fargo" at least twice.
Once we had got it up the steep driveway to the first pile of branches, we began to realize just how hot it was. Got out the Peltor hearing protection we use when we shoot and covered up the target area with a tarp for easy cleanup. It was chipping time, firing up the beast and cranking up the throttle I felt the same way I did when I watched "Conan the Barbarian" for the first time. We fed a few of the larger sticks through to get a sense for the machine and then proceeded to violate nearly all of the safety directions on the sticker next to the intake by reaching in to force larger and larger piles of wood debris through the mangler.
We got through the first brush pile in about an hour and were ready to move on to the pile on our "back forty." The main concern was whether we would be able to get the woodchipper back there and then turned around to tow it back out. We plotted a course and were pleasantly surprised by how easy it was to get the woodchipper over some rough terrain and in place by the second pile.
After laying some landscaping plastic down where we intended the woodchips to go, we fired up the beast again and resumed chipping. It was easily the hottest day of the year and by this point we were both sweating up a storm and feeling the effects of the heat and humidity. Manhandling large logs and gathering little sticks into piles sufficient to stuff down the maw of the Bandit XL is tough under the angry spring sun. We were on the clock so breaks weren't really in the gameplan, but ended up being necessary to avoid heatstroke. We got through the pile and I ventured out into the woods to see if I could find anything else to chip. I wanted to make full use of the chipper while we had it. A couple of the logs I found just were too much for the Bandit so we set them aside to use as retaining walls for the mulch. We decided to wrap up the operation after about 5 hours and towed the Bandit back to the rental place after topping up the gas tank which was almost empty by that point. We didn't get around to spreading the woodchip mulch until today but were pretty happy to cover up all that landscaping fabric with something a little classier. Here's a little taste of the mulched goodness now surrounding the raised beds:
Thursday, April 1, 2010
our spring chickens
these black australorps remind me of the raptors from " Jurassic Park"
lois the rhode island red hen
April calls these gals"leopards"
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
my terrible, no good, very bad day...with a happy ending
Sometimes everything isn't sunshine and flowers here on the farm. I needed to finish filling the second raised bed, so I made 2 trips out to Catawba to get horse manure compost yesterday. I got caught in a torrential downpour on the way home the second time and then sat in a country traffic jam with a full load of horse poop due to a bad accident. When I got home I was backing the truck up to the cinder block bed when I heard the horrible sound of scraping metal and then blocks tumbling down. Now, I ain't the greatest driver in the world after 7 years of hardly driving in San Francisco, but having a trailer ball hitch works out pretty good for me cause that hits first and saves me from feeling guilty for denting the truck. I put on the parking brake and hopped out to check out the damage and much to my surprise (horror might be a better choice of words) the tri-ball hitch was GONE! I know I had it put on right and tight because we had just towed the sodcutter home not too long ago and I hadn't messed with it since then. I could hardly believe that someone around here would steal it, but that seemed to be the only reasonable explanation. The damage was pretty bad appearance wise but fortunately nothing that will stop the truck from hauling more crap.
ouch
We are finally going to rent the wood chipper this Friday, so I needed to get a replacement ball hitch and the chicks are almost out of feed. So, this morning I headed out with the boys to pay a visit to Walmart, Tractor Supply & Lowe's. The first two stops went well enough, picked up a 50lb bag of chick starter with no antibiotics added, then got groceries and a new ball hitch with a lock at Wallyworld. If anyone tries to steal this one they are gonna need a blowtorch or freon.
anti-theft locking hitch, next time mr. grabby won't have it so easy...
I headed off to Lowe's to complete my mission by picking up about 1000 lbs of cow manure and topsoil. I ran into a high school pal of April's who just got engaged at the checkout and congratulated him from both of us then pushed my flatbed of soil building goodness out to my dented chariot. Getting a ball hitch stolen and subsequently scraping my Chevy had put me in a pretty foul mood, so when I opened the door and found Clyde nose deep in my 4WD selector tearing out insulation; I lost it. He got a butt swatting and then the silent treatment as I seethed and simmered on the way back to our house. I could tell he knew that he had messed up big time, but forgiveness wasn't something I was ready to give the demonic Blue Heeler I insisted we buy.
"Your truck is tasty!"...No more rides for Clyde
We got home and I put the boys inside so I could take out the girls outside to their chicken tractor for their very first day outside in the sunshine. They squaked and clucked to express their displeasure with being stuffed into a box, one of the yellow ladies tried to make a break for it and was the first one to actually fly out of their trough. When I had them all corralled and brought them out, I first tried to shove the whole box into the chicken tractor and then turn it on its side so they could get out; but none of the girls was brave enough to venture out of their safe dark cave into the sun. Finally, I just tipped the box over and when they had all slid out I took it out of the chicken tractor. After I scattered some feed in the grass and made sure their waterer was full, I sat down to watch their first taste of the great outdoors and take a few pics. I wish I could capture the happy songs they sung as they realized how good the grass felt underfoot and how tasty the grass and bugs were. I'm not sure I have ever heard such beautiful sounds. I just sat there in the sun for what seemed like an eternity, enjoying them clucking contentedly in the sun. It was like a balm for my soul, I felt happy again and ready to dig up the septic tank and and gather up some more fallen branches to be chipped this Friday. The happy ending was when my wife got home and heard about my day. She said, "Well that's three things, so you should be done with the bad luck for a while." It was exactly what I needed to hear and with April home, my day suddenly didn't seem so bad after all...
the ladies enjoying the sun and their new digs
ouch
We are finally going to rent the wood chipper this Friday, so I needed to get a replacement ball hitch and the chicks are almost out of feed. So, this morning I headed out with the boys to pay a visit to Walmart, Tractor Supply & Lowe's. The first two stops went well enough, picked up a 50lb bag of chick starter with no antibiotics added, then got groceries and a new ball hitch with a lock at Wallyworld. If anyone tries to steal this one they are gonna need a blowtorch or freon.
anti-theft locking hitch, next time mr. grabby won't have it so easy...
I headed off to Lowe's to complete my mission by picking up about 1000 lbs of cow manure and topsoil. I ran into a high school pal of April's who just got engaged at the checkout and congratulated him from both of us then pushed my flatbed of soil building goodness out to my dented chariot. Getting a ball hitch stolen and subsequently scraping my Chevy had put me in a pretty foul mood, so when I opened the door and found Clyde nose deep in my 4WD selector tearing out insulation; I lost it. He got a butt swatting and then the silent treatment as I seethed and simmered on the way back to our house. I could tell he knew that he had messed up big time, but forgiveness wasn't something I was ready to give the demonic Blue Heeler I insisted we buy.
"Your truck is tasty!"...No more rides for Clyde
We got home and I put the boys inside so I could take out the girls outside to their chicken tractor for their very first day outside in the sunshine. They squaked and clucked to express their displeasure with being stuffed into a box, one of the yellow ladies tried to make a break for it and was the first one to actually fly out of their trough. When I had them all corralled and brought them out, I first tried to shove the whole box into the chicken tractor and then turn it on its side so they could get out; but none of the girls was brave enough to venture out of their safe dark cave into the sun. Finally, I just tipped the box over and when they had all slid out I took it out of the chicken tractor. After I scattered some feed in the grass and made sure their waterer was full, I sat down to watch their first taste of the great outdoors and take a few pics. I wish I could capture the happy songs they sung as they realized how good the grass felt underfoot and how tasty the grass and bugs were. I'm not sure I have ever heard such beautiful sounds. I just sat there in the sun for what seemed like an eternity, enjoying them clucking contentedly in the sun. It was like a balm for my soul, I felt happy again and ready to dig up the septic tank and and gather up some more fallen branches to be chipped this Friday. The happy ending was when my wife got home and heard about my day. She said, "Well that's three things, so you should be done with the bad luck for a while." It was exactly what I needed to hear and with April home, my day suddenly didn't seem so bad after all...
the ladies enjoying the sun and their new digs
breakfast of champions
breakfast taco with chorizo, scrambled egg, green salsa and mozzarella
using those delicious calories to put the finishing touches on the chicken tractor
Monday, March 29, 2010
it ain't work if you enjoy doing it
"I would rather do a good hours work weeding than write two pages of my best; nothing is so interesting as weeding."
- Robert Louis Stevenson
- Robert Louis Stevenson
Saturday, March 27, 2010
when hours pass like seconds
It's been a little too long since I wrote a proper post, the last few nights I had every intention of actually writing one but Rolling Rock, reggae and relaxing got the best of me. We are happy and tired again tonight, the result of one of our most productive weeks and Saturdays yet. I am so grateful that I have been given the chance to try and realize a dream, both God and my wife share the credit for making it possible. I still feel like I am a kid playing farmer, a mix of glee and guilt as I wave goodbye to April when she leaves weekday mornings. Happy that I can stack cinder blocks into a raised bed, build stuff with power tools and tend to animals and plants instead of sales calls. Guilty that I have been unemployed for the longest stretch since I was 13 and still in no hurry to go back to selling myself or my time. My dad always told me that, "it's better to think than to stink" meaning I should try and get a job using my brain so I wouldn't have to sweat to earn my pay. He had a point, but I have been so much happier stinking lately that it will tough to ever put a suit and tie back on. This isn't a point of view that is well understood in a bad economy with many people suffering. Money makes the world go round, but as we read in the Book of Luke today, "Man does not live by bread alone." Time and happiness are just as valuable commodities and maybe harder to find enough of. I am blessed that my wife is so talented and skilled that I have the chance to try to make a go of farming, blessed that she will work a hard week and then plant raised beds, install grapevines and build a chicken tractor with me on her weekend. I usually talk about all the stuff we got done and post the pictures to prove it, so this introspective wallowing probably is not gonna fly with everyone reading this. I will get back to the usual stuff. After trying to rent a wood chipper this morning and discovering someone had beat us to it by 15 minutes, we came back home and finished planting our first raised bed. We added onions, cucumbers, spinach, greens, lettuce, carrots and parsley root to the strawberries and herbs we had planted last week. I will need to make 2 or 3 more trips out to the horse farm in Catawba this week to fill up the new raised bed I built on Thursday. I have it down to a science now. It takes a full pallet of 90 cinder blocks, which means 2 trips in the Chevy so I don't bust my suspension, I pound the ground flat with the blocks as I lay them and use scrap wood to even out any depressions or bumps. This bed came out much tighter and straighter than our first try which was satisfying to see how even our worst mistakes bring wisdom for the next time.
second raised bed, ready to be filled
The chicks are all still alive and healthy and double the size they were last week. They are flying almost high enough to get out of the feed trough they live in, so I have laid bird netting over the top to keep them inside. I am thinking about moving them out this week depending on the weather, now that the chicken tractor is complete I'd like to give them a few play sessions under the sun before I move them to the coop for good. The blackberries, raspberries and grapevines are all planted, mulched and trellised. The peach and cherry trees are all budded out and some flowering like pink and white explosions.
springing back to life after a long, cold winter
While taking our lunch break today, I had asked April what time it was. 2 she says, so we sat down to eat some chicken caesar salad and plot out the rest of the afternoon. In what seemed like maybe 10 minutes, the dogs were done licking our plates clean and we were on our way back outside. But the clock said 3 now. It's great how time flies when you're having fun and getting things done. I just hope it slows down enough so we don't wake up 60 years old tomorrow.
second raised bed, ready to be filled
The chicks are all still alive and healthy and double the size they were last week. They are flying almost high enough to get out of the feed trough they live in, so I have laid bird netting over the top to keep them inside. I am thinking about moving them out this week depending on the weather, now that the chicken tractor is complete I'd like to give them a few play sessions under the sun before I move them to the coop for good. The blackberries, raspberries and grapevines are all planted, mulched and trellised. The peach and cherry trees are all budded out and some flowering like pink and white explosions.
springing back to life after a long, cold winter
While taking our lunch break today, I had asked April what time it was. 2 she says, so we sat down to eat some chicken caesar salad and plot out the rest of the afternoon. In what seemed like maybe 10 minutes, the dogs were done licking our plates clean and we were on our way back outside. But the clock said 3 now. It's great how time flies when you're having fun and getting things done. I just hope it slows down enough so we don't wake up 60 years old tomorrow.
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