Why have a farm?

imageI can show you why in just one picture.  These are two of my grandchildren, Nora and Anderson.  They are on the back of my horse Cankoowatay, Chaka for short.  My farm allows me to give them these moments. It allows them to call me Grandpa farmer Sean.


This is Buddy with my daughter Nyoka.  Buddy is a dwarf 3 legged angus steer.  Technically, he has 4 legs but on rear leg is completely crippled and useless and does not work.  His crippledness has resulted in ver poor exercise and food intake and thus drastically stunted growth.  Hence he is just the kind of oddball I am always lookin for to give a home at see me farm.  Leave it to me to find the good guys.  Buddy can pirouette on on front foot while pushing off with his good back foot.  He may never be a T bone but he can be Kevin Bacon and DANCE!





Why don’t I think like a MAN? (Insert grunting here)

OK.  Let me preface my comments by saying that I am not whining. And, while I do believe a more traditional testosterone driven thought pattern would simplify much in my life, I am both content and happy with me the way I am.  Secondly lent me say that as I point out others reactions to my eccentricities, I am not judging them or finding any fault.  I am merely making observations of what I perceive to be normal males.

I’ve lived in this house for a little over 2.5 years.  For nearly 2 years of that our ice maker did not work. Why?  There was a leak in the water line to it.  I knew exactly where the leak was.  We went without because I was intimidated by the prospect of replacing the entire waterline.  Moving out appliances, snaking line without crimping and causing a new leak.  I eventually hired my Amish neighbor and best friend Joe to do it.  I bought the entire replacement kit.  He opened it pulled 3 prices, cut out the leak, and spliced the ends back together. Total labor time? 15 minutes testing and all.  Why didn’t my brain think of this? Was I embarrassed? No, it’s Joe. He knows I’m not right.

I’ve been trying to buy some tobacco sticks for use As tomatoes takes for two weeks now.  Then something in my brain hiccuped and said u have a miter saw and a huge pile of cedar 1 x 2 scraps……make your own.  So that’s what I did this evening.  All by myself.  No help.  And I can still count to 10 on my hands.  I am so excited.   I wanna tell someone… To brag.  Unfortunately,  not to many people get excited when a grown man uses his own power tool to cut a stick.  

Sean:  Dad! I used my miter saw to cut tomato stakes all by myself!

Dad: (pregnant pause) uhhhhh…that’s good.

It just doesn’t seem to work no matter how you play it.  I could tell Joe.  He gets me or maybe just feels sorry for me.  He pushes me to develop man brain.  Even told me he would not build me a barn door.  Says I have to start doing things for myself. And I’m gonna build that door too. You watch and see.  A barn door is ALLOWED to be crooked.

Speaking of pregnant, this is a picture of my 8 month pregnant daughter Brontë weeding her green beans while I drove my tomato stakes today.


And these are cookies that Joes wife Ida made and gave me in trade for eggs that my chickens laid and I gave her.  I think I got the long end of that deal.  I love her cookies.


A sad tail of good hopes and loss.

On friday i was given a very pretty Jersey cow that was down.  This means she was not able to stand up.  The hope was that threw the use of straps, a tree, a special tool that hooks to her hip bones, and a come alond we would be able to suspend her on her feet and help her regain circulation and use of her limbs since they all seemed intact.


Starting Friday evening, we got her up.  A very strenuous process began.  2 hours up 2 hours down with it taking about 45 minutes to move her each time around the clock.  But, she was a trooper and cooperated without too much distress even when I worked in the dark.  

By Saturday early afternoon she had full use of her front legs but still nothing in her entire rear.  Her backbone looked angled funny too.  By sundy evening we were suspecting a spinal injury and our prognosis had become very guarded as she had developed a rapidly progressing case ove bloat (swelling in the belly).

Sunday morning when i went out to raise her up again she had worked free of the straps and had dragged herself/rolled about 30 yards down the hill.  Her bloat was very bad and she was stressing very much.  By hand i pulled her around so he head faced uphill and began making preoerations to help her end her suffering. A neighbor with a skid steer will help me bury her.

My source for a gun was at church but when i went back out later she had passed.  Yes.  If pets cros the rainbow bridge i guess my little 800 lb cow girl patient has crossed the golden arches.  You know i jokingly referred to her as my Hamburger (never in her presence.) cause she was beef on the ground. But my hamburger….may the angels who milk you ever have warm hands.  I got close to you trying to save you.

It’s been a while but it’s Apple’s fault.  An Update.

well I know I blew threw like a month with no blog entries.  It’s not my first time but This time it’s not MY fault.  iOS 8.3. Has my keyboard orientation really messed up and lots of times I cannot see what I am typing.  So I haven’t typed.  Still not fixed but trying.


Good news and bad news…

Bad news….

I sold My calf Tinkerbell.

Goats ate a whole thru my fence. Not uncommon.  But a local beagle came in and I lost 16 chickens.

For this and other reasons I dropped down to 1 rooster, Chauntecleer. 

Good news….

I got a new Naked Neck Rooster, Cleetus.

Good News….

I got the worlds ugliest rooster. A silky bantum that i named Cecil.


Good News….

I rebuilt my fence clampet style.(pic to come later)

Good news…

We got a lil piggy.  His name is Speck ast Pee Wee Hermqn’s dog. We also found out later this is thr German word for Bacon.


 Good news…

We got a rooster named Stephani.

Good news…

I named my polish chick Eddie after Eddie and the Cruisers.


The things a father does…

…for his goats……I mean for his kids….. I mean for his children.  Ok, it’s for the goats but the children will use it too.

I got this for free off of Craigslist today. I am putting it up for my goals and children to play on.  My little ones never it had it so good before.  I knew there was a way my family would benefit from owning goats!

Farming 101 lesson #72

The chicken coop “chicken door” must be left in the open position prior to darkness in order to avoid excessive amounts of unnecessary extra work.

Earlier today I had Mik kick the lazier chickens of our flock out of the coop and shut the coop door so that we could ensure that they would get enough food, water, and treats.  Unfortunately we forgot to open the door back up.  This resulted in …instead of mik just shutting the door to close in the already roosting chickens in…both of us having to go out and individually locate, capture, and place each chicken on the roosts. The difficulty comes into play when we have to climb the tree and get the chickens that have rooster there(possums and raccoons can climb trees).

Lesson learned. Fun had. Father/son experience experienced.

My eggs…other benefits of the farm life and strike a pose.

you remember my hen Emma. She’s one of me new hens,  I introduced you to her.  She’s a handsome girl.   


Emma is what they call an Easter Egger chicken or sometimes incorectly ( as she doesn’t actually meet any breed standard) Ameraucana or Auracana chicken.  The point I am getting to is what makes her most special. Her breed lays eggs in one of many shades of blue.  Emma’s shade is a very particular Tiffany shade of blue I think.  Because of it, I think it rounds out our egg haul quite nicely.   


Now, I think this little gif reminds me very much of my boys and if they ever asked I would actually find a way to build em a rodeo ring and pen just so the COULD do it.


Just to be annoying dad I am throwing this last shot up.  She looks so cut don’t you think. 


A hen pecked update and some 3 legged fun

One particular breed is all I need to complete my current hen menagerie wish list. That would be a White Leghorn. But, I have begun the exciting process of naming my hens.  At least those hens that are of physical distinction enough to rate a name.


Ida Mae, Patsy, and, Diane.  Note the resemblance?


Louise. Another hair color match in my humble opinion.


Eva.  Sometimes they won’t cooperate for a face shot.


Laura. This one is usually feisty but saw the camera and stpped to pose.


Emma. Bold.  No hiding in her.


Linda. Keeps sneaking up on me and running away cackling. I always have to keep an eye out on this lady.


Helen.  Keeps the roosters in order. Chases them when they get out of line.



Lucille.  Sweet and friendly but was hell on wheels around the chicks when I picked her up.  Just an all round different girl. I mean look at her. 


Nellie. Pretty small.  Skinny little legs.  Always around when there is something goin on.  Always something goin on when Nellie is there. But she never seems to start it.  Is just there to watch.  

I have more hens. Will name more as there personalities show. Just you wait and see.

And now for Tripoli’s table dance.