The Beginning of Turkey Problems

Brandon and I were relaxing in the hot tub last night, recovering from a mad rush to plant seventeen prickly rose bushes dug up from a friends yard, when we noticed that the dog was interested in something in the dark lawn.  What is that white thing?  It was Turkey!  Sleeping on the ground in the middle of the back yard.  In my bathrobe and flip flops, I captured Turkey and carried it to the coop and locked the door.  I hope this isn't the beginning of Turkey problems.  Until now, Turkey has put itself back to bed with the chickens each night.   Carrying a turkey is harder than carrying a chicken.  Not only is it bigger and heavier, but it's legs are strong and when it kicks, it's nails are sharp enough to scratch through a bathrobe.  

Have you noticed how many bloggers have stopped blogging?  Maybe this is an old fashioned sort of story sharing compared to tweetering and instagramering.  Or maybe the bloggers I like to read can only tell so many stories about their donkeys before they start to feel like they are repeating themselves.  I feel that sometimes, like my stories are cyclic like the seasons.  

But each new baby goat is unique!  Like Nibs, learning to eat grass with his mother.  I've noticed that the baby goats sample the vegetation straight from their mothers mouth.  If they see one of the other goats eating something, then they want some too.  I think they are learning.  

This is Nibs with his head stuck in the fence.  The kind of fencing we used has smaller holes near the bottom, and bigger holes near the top, and its advertised as goat fencing.  It works to keep little goats from sticking their heads through to eat grass near the bottom, but it didn't stop Nibs from jumping up and sticking his head through the top so he could get closer to me.  Thankfully I was there to help him thread those little horns back through.  I hope he learned not to do that, because I'm nervous now to come home and find that he's been stuck out in the sun, hanging from his horns.  

Goats are Pigs, but the Hammock is Good and So Was Hattie

Can you see those pointy little horns on the baby buckling?  The horns give him a mischievous look, like an adorable little devil.  He is less brave and feisty that than Newnoo, the baby girl.  She is a show off, and has learned to cry at me for food.  She stands tall on the fence with her older sister and they both wail at me, demanding I bring them something more to eat.  I've been cutting honeysuckle and wild rose brambles from the overgrown fence lines and field margins and pitching it over the fence to the animals.  Now that they know I have the ability to create delicious vegetation with a snip of my shears, the goats cry for food as soon as they see me.  Sometimes they cry with their mouths full, which makes me laugh at their funny voices.  Goats are pigs.  

Enjoy some Goat TV as Newnoo shows off for the camera.  

The baby goats jump up and put their feet on me while they chew my clothes and beg for petting.  It took me a while to break the River brothers from the jumping habit, since their last owner said she allowed her goats to jump on her so she didn't have to bend over to pet them.  The jumping is cute now, while they are little, but I don't really like being mobbed by giant adult goats and getting muddy goat prints on my clothes, so I'm working on teaching the young ones to stay down.  

I am not making any progress with little Newnoo.  I push her away and she returns over and over again.  It's a fun game!  

When the goats are wailing for cut branches and the donkeys hear me rustling in the brush, they start to bray.  They don't want to be left out!  I bring them bundles of branches, thorns and all, and they happily eat them down to the sticks.  Then they play with the sticks.  You can see that Hattie's face is still shaved from her surgery, but her stitches are healing nicely, and I think having the hair shaved on her face helps her leaky eyes dry faster.  We haven't had any problems with raw skin yet, but it's still early in the fly season.  

After weeks of trying to get with the farrier, we finally made it happen.  Hattie was as good as gold!  I asked the farrier if I could introduce his tools to her before he came in the fence, where I had both donkeys tied to posts.  I placed the tools near Hattie and gave her treats when she touched her nose to the tools.  I crouched by her face and scratched her chin and talked embarrassing baby talk while I fed her treats and the farrier didn't have to fight a single squirm from her.  What a relief! 

Rufus, unfortunately, was not as good as gold.  He was bad.  As soon as I brought the farriers tools near him, he kicked up the ground and bucked against being tied.  The farriers grungy old towel, used to wipe the mud from the hooves, was terrifying to him, and he was not going stand peacefully while such a scary object was near him.  He wouldn't even accept a treat when offered.  Sigh.  I had to twist his ear to get him to hold still, but at least we got it done and their feet look wonderful.  Now I know I need to work with Rufus to get him used to being around a towel.  A towel!

Brandon asked the farrier if many of his clients acted like Rufus, and the farrier said no.  He said he's been trimming hooves for twenty years now, and unless it's a small animal, like my donkeys, he doesn't put up with kickers anymore.  He said he recently had a donkey that hadn't been trimmed in ten years!  The vet tranquilized the poor donkey so he could trim his hooves.  He said the donkeys feet would be okay, but that his legs were going to be sore because his tendons are all out of shape from walking weird for all those years.  

Do you see my hammock, near the apple tree?  When the wailing of the goats, braying of the donkeys, and attention from a flock of hungry chickens starts to overwhelm me - I'M NOT JUST A WALKING FOOD DISPENSER!! - I retreat to the hammock.  It's out of view of all those hungry mammals.  

The scent from the apple blossoms and the buzz of the pollinating insects is calming. 

The hammock is tied to a couple of small maple trees that we've allowed to grow from tiny volunteer seedlings. 

I wanted to post this picture of the vibrant new-leaf green canopy above the hammock, because I know in a few years it will be all leaves and no blue sky.  These trees are growing fast! 

The lawn was full of tiny flowers and dandelion puffs.  Brandon mowed the lawn, and it sounded and smelled just like summer!  There are summer things to plan for.  The garden to plant, the pool to open.  We have a party to plan for too, when the fireflies arrive, and we are taking a trip soon.  We both travel often for work stuff, but I think it's been more than two years since we went on an overnight trip with each other and asked someone else to care for all these hungry animals while we are gone.  So much to look forward to!    

Eggs, Eggs, Eggs, and a Turkey

I find nests of eggs all over the place.  Some of the hens like to lay in my barn, or in the hay piles. Some like to lay their eggs on top of Wendigo's dog house.  One hen even lays her eggs in the goats hay basket, despite the goats sticking their noses all around her as they eat.   

Most of them are laying eggs in the nest box, like good chickens.  One of my hens is broody, and she sits on her eggs in an old dog crate on the floor of the chicken coop.  I like to have a broody hen and the possibility of new chicks, even though I don't really need more chickens.  

I don't need any more eggs either!  You should see inside my freezer - I have stacks of eggs frozen in quart size freezer bags.  I'm hoping to stock up enough eggs to make it through the winter even when the chickens don't lay as many as they do now. 

Don't feel sorry for Wendigo, she can take a nap anywhere, even right in the middle of all those chickens!

I'm glad Wendigo is on the scene, because I'm letting my baby birds out during the day now.  They are eight weeks old, and seem to be interested in getting out to explore and eat.  Yesterday after work I opened their door and watched as the bravest made their way down the ramp and onto the grass.  

Turkey took the lead, and bravely faced the the big birds and the dog in order to reach the fresh greens.  It makes a soft hissing cluck noise when it's excited, and it's head flushes pink.  As the sun was setting, I checked to make sure the baby birds where putting themselves back to bed, and found Turkey standing in a bucket of water near the coop door.  It seemed calm and a little confused by it's situation, but allowed me to pick it up and place it on the ramp to the coop, where it slowly made it's way inside.  It' such as big bird it's easy to forget that it's a baby with no experiences outside the coop walls.  I made sure to turn the bucket over so it can't get trapped again.  The slow way it moves and it's careful examination of everything it encounters reminds me of Big Bird from Sesame Street.  I never realized that Big Bird was a turkey!

Hattie is Okay

The vet and I exchanged texts throughout the day as we planned around our work schedules, and we managed to meet at the donkey fence late yesterday afternoon so he could examine Hattie's eyes.  Not only does Hattie have tears running down her face when the sun shines bright, but a small fleshy lump formed near the corner of her left eye.  She scratches her leaky eyes on things, and made the lump bleed.  

The vet immediately identified the lump as squamous cell carcinoma, and decided to remove it.  He said it can be a life threatening problem, not really because it will metastasize and spread through her body, but because if left there it will spread on her face and even dissolve her bones.  He said it's not uncommon in horses and donkeys, and he thinks they form in areas that are consistently irritated.  He had all the gear to remove it in his mobile surgery, so he walked Hattie near the truck, tranquilized her, shaved and washed her face, and cut the lump away and stitched her up.  

Brandon wanted to know if it was normal for her to look so weird and fat!  I told him she looks beautiful, for a donkey, and the vet said she was perfect - both donkeys looked the way they were supposed to, and weren't over fed.  

While she was knocked out, he looked closely in her nostrils with his headlamp and also could not find any tear ducts.  He put green dye in her eyes and looked for it to show up in her nose, and it didn't, it just ran down her face.  While he was operating he kept wiping away the tears that pooled in her eye.  I think it's really true, she doesn't have tear ducts, just like the other vet said.  

Hattie was so groggy after the surgery that it took a while to get her to sit up.  Once she was sort of propped up and looked like she was going to come around, the vet and his technician left to stitch up a calf that had cut itself badly.  I asked the vet technician, who was the same lady that came when Rufus was castrated a few years ago, if she still still liked her job, since she seemed so tired and grumpy.  She said it was getting to her, not wrestling with the animals, which she's very good at, but the long hours with so many hours spent in the truck driving from farm to farm.  They left our house around four thirty and still had two more calls to make.  

Hattie is a pretty fun drunk.  She was wobbly and sweet, and fixated on food like she had a serious case of the munchies.  She started pulling up grass before she could even support her head or make her lips move right. 

She's only two years old, and the vet tech looked in her mouth while Hattie was drunk and docile and said she still had her baby teeth.  The vet said to not be surprised if the cancer comes back, and he warned me not wait to get it treated if I see another lump or abscess.  He said if she scratches the stitches open to just put some antibiotic ointment on it.  Otherwise, I didn't have to do anything for her wound.  He said the face heals very well.  When I asked if this was going to shorten her lifespan, he said, "It's going to be an issue."  

When asked if there was anything that could be done for her leaky eyes, which cause the irritation, that probably caused the cancer, he said no.  Then he said, "Well, there is new research where they are trying to install artificial tear ducts that drain into the sinus cavity."  Then he scoffed and said, "I mean, if you want to spend ten thousand dollars. Ha!"  Brandon laughed too. Hmph. I think Hattie and I are stuck with her leaky eyes and fly management.  

Eventually Hattie made it to her feet and stayed focused on eating grass.  She wasn't chewing it very well though, and sometimes big chunks of wet grass would fall out of her drunk mouth.  I didn't worry about it for a while, but then I started to be concerned that she was going to make herself sick gorging on un-chewed grass when she's been on a diet of hay, so I started to pull her toward her fence. She wobbled and paused and nearly fell over, so it was a slow walk and she kept getting more grass.  

When we got to her gate, she refused to go in.  She posted up and I could not get her to budge.  It didn't help that Rufus was jealous of Hattie's outing and wanted to come out when the gate was open.  After a long time I resorted to giving Hattie treats to get her to move, and that was a bad idea.  She gagged on sunflower seeds mixed with grass, and then she choked, for real.  She panicked when she couldn't breath, and flailed, and then fell over on the fence, which bounced her to the ground where she convulsed and I braced myself to watch her die. Oh, Hattie! But then she started to breath again, I think because the fall dislodged the clog.  I get an F for post operative care.  

We both sat on the ground for a while as she took slow breaths and tried to swallow the lump in her throat.  When she stood up, she stood with her head hanging while green drool ran from her lips and she struggled to swallow over and over.  With her drunk stance, and with the green eye drops running down her half shaved face with swollen stitches, and green drool coming from her lips and nose, she looked so pitiful, but she was alive!  

It took several hours for her to swallow the lump.  I texted the vet and he said to remove her food but that most chokes resolve themselves.  On my last check before I made myself lay down, even though I knew sleep would be impossible after such an adrenaline rush, she wasn't trying to swallow any more.  This morning as soon as I stepped out of the house she brayed long and hard and was more than ready for breakfast.  Even the swelling on her stitches had gone down.  She's okay.  

Goat TV

Stop staring at me, Little Buck!  I think he's trying to penetrate my brain with his square pupil-ed googly eyes.  He doesn't understand why I won't cuddle.  

He's growing up fast and now has a long beard and the hair stands up on his neck, which gives him a more masculine goat look.  He still acts like a dummy though.  

Little Buck was getting in the way while we were trying to reattach his mineral feeder, so Brandon pointed a drill at him and pushed the button so it made a whirring noise and Little Buck's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he ran away and cried like a baby.  Not such a tough goat, really.  

Unlike his daughter, Noobi, who has the crooked horns and knows she's armed.  She's getting bossier and bossier, and Peaches has to struggle to maintain her top goat status.  Noobi knows she has a horn that sticks up on her head, and she uses it to defend the food bowl.  I was petting her the other day and examined her udder, which is changing with her pregnancy, and she aimed the horn at me and swiped her head, like she was going to poke me for getting fresh.  I can see why it would be a good idea for milk goats to be hornless.  She could take out an eye!  

Our baby goats are getting so big we won't be able to hold them much longer!

Enjoy some baby goat TV.  

White and Purple Blooms

Wow, just look at that pear tree blooming!  Does it bring to mind the cherry tree that grew outside Anne's window at Green Gables, the White Lady?  

This is the view from our bedroom window.  There are so many petals on the roof it looks like it's been snowing!

From every window we could see white petals blowing on the breeze. 

The grass was coated with petals, and the chickens spent their time gobbling them up.  It's fun to think that my breakfast eggs were made with pear blossoms. 

I like to stand beneath the branches and listen to the buzz of the visiting insects.  I'm hopeful that the pear tree and the bugs had plenty of nice weather together this year, so all the flowers were pollinated.  So romantic. 

The poor old tree is hollow, and lost nearly a third of it's crown when a giant branch broke off.  It didn't mind the pruning, and made plenty of flowers anyway. 

The wild pear tree growing from the corner of the barn and outhouse was impressive this year too.  Even the little red bud tree that I planted in the back yard years ago made an impressive show this spring. 

It's nice to have some purple blooms to go with the white pear trees. 

It won't be long before this tree is big enough to make some shade for sitting in the back yard by the pool.  Can you believe it's almost time to open the pool?! 

I've been out in the world some, for work and for play, and realized that all the flower photos I've been taking are of purple or white flowers.  Like these violets. 

And the purple dwarf larkspur. 

This is a super cool wildflower called dutchman's breeches (Dicentra cucullaria). 

Do the funny shaped flowers look like breeches to you?

I got to see some sessile trillium (Trillium sessile) growing on a slope.

The blue phlox made the most impressive show, growing in a huge patch that turned the hillside lavender.  I'm so glad it is spring!

Moving Hay

I've always heard that people can be crushed by those giant bales of hay.  Now I know how it happens!  Every couple of months, since we've been out of our own home made hay, Brandon takes the trailer over to Joe's house and buys a couple of round hay bales.  Joe puts them on the trailer with his tractor, but we don't have a tractor to get them off.  Instead, Brandon wedges his body between the bales and uses his legs to push a bale off the back.  My job is to hold onto the dog so she doesn't get smashed by the bale when it rolls off, and to fret that he's going to crush himself while he's doing it.  

The second bale is even harder to move because he doesn't have a bale to put his back against.  I'm glad to see that all those hours at the gym are useful. 

There's always some hay that unrolls from the bale, so he uses a pitch fork to throw it over the fence.

So that's why they call it a pitch fork! 

Moving hay is not a thankless job.  The donkeys, goats, and I are always extra grateful for his hard work.