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Muddy Valley Farm

~ Life on a tiny west coast hobby farm

Muddy Valley Farm

Category Archives: Equines

The Winter Field

17 Monday May 2021

Posted by Jodi in Chickens, Equines, Farm Improvements, Gardening

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One of the cool things about living for twenty-plus years on the same piece of land is being able to see the long term results of our actions. Like the 150 foot hedge that we planted along the busy road fifteen years ago. It’s twenty feet tall now, ten feet wide and impenetrable. And beautiful in the fall.

Or our “winter field”. The winter field got its name because it is the only field that stays dry enough that we can have the horses on it a little bit in mid winter when everywhere else is too muddy. To protect both the land and their feet, our ponies spend much of the wet season in their roomy barnyard paddock, on top of some serious drainage (4 feet of rocks, gravel, then hog fuel).

When we first moved to our muddy valley, a couple horses had been left too long on the winter field, nibbling it down to bare earth. After the horses left, we did nothing (no money, no time and three small kids) and by the next spring, much to our relief, it had greened right up with a mix of grass, clover and plenty of weeds. A couple years later we started putting our own horses on it. They ate down the grass each year, but not the weeds, because horses are picky. We tried to encourage the grass, because more free grass means less outlay on hay to feed hungry horses. We did our best to avoid overgrazing and kept the weeds sort of under control by mowing, hand pulling and, one expensive year, even plowing the whole bloody thing, fertilizing and reseeding. We tried the same approach in the northwest field.  Sadly, a couple years later, both fields looked just the same; grass, clover and plenty of weeds. 

More years went by, and then in 2012, we got six chicks and built their coop next to the winter field. By 2013 we had lots of chickens (that’s another story), who happily free ranged in the afternoons year round, nibbling greens and enjoying bugs, scratching things up a bit but not too much, leaving their droppings behind. 

Life continued, and here we are another eight years later, with the winter field transformed! Especially the area nearest the coops which looks amazing. The thick emerald grass is trimmed slightly tall and fairly even by the flock’s sharp beaks, and completely weed free. It looks like the ‘after’ picture of a weed n feed commercial, except for the chicken poops nestled here and there. Ten feet away, the grass is still lush, with scattered bits of clover. Ten feet more, the grass / clover mix is more pronounced and there is a weed or two. About forty feet away from the coops, where the birds don’t hang out as much, it looks more like the before-chicken winter field.

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It has to be our free range poultry who have made this dramatic difference, nothing else has changed! It appears that given the right set of circumstances, chickens are superb groundskeepers. 

Regenerative agriculture is having a moment right now, and I totally get why. One regenerative ag strategy involves running livestock lightly on the land where they can forage their own feed, fertilize with their droppings, and disturb the soil moderately with their activities, improving fertility and production. Our winter field, before and after introducing chickens, is an accidental testament to this idea. It’s quite remarkable.

Around here, as we experiment with more regenerative approaches (my new raspberry patch is ‘no till’ and RG uses lots of the techniques), the health of the soil and the plants and animals that it nurtures just keeps improving.

If I had the time and energy, I would have chicken tractors, staffed by feathery groundskeepers, set up at forty feet intervals all over, and let the place really go to the birds.

A South-facing Barn

17 Wednesday Feb 2021

Posted by Jodi in Equines, Farm Improvements, Seasons, Weather

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In my experience, nothing beats a south-facing barn. On cold sunny winter days like today, with the snow blue and crunchy and the mud frozen into hard ridges underfoot, the morning sun rises at just the right angle to flood both stalls with sunshine right to the back wall. Lucky equines, to be snug and dry and munching breakfast while sunbathing.

In the summer the sun tracks much higher in the sky, and except in the very early morning the stalls, thanks to the roof’s overhang, are plunged into deep shade, a cool retreat from the heat of the day.

Our prevailing south westerlies and winter northerlies are well blocked by the barn’s design. In stormy weather, the big sliding barn doors may sway a bit in the wind, but they never slam open, or shut. The rain never blows inside the open stalls either. It’s the height of mud season right now, and except where our little desert flower donks have peed the stall floors remain dry as a bone. Resourceful and fastidious donks have set up their own temporary “indoor” pee spot, about 2 x 2 feet, which they use carefully and exclusively, so they can avoid putting even one dainty hoof on that horrible white stuff. They have a separate small spot where they deposit their manure. Good donks, this makes them easy to clean up after.

The loft stores upwards of 250 bales of hay and thanks to our new roof vent keeps it dry and mold-free year round – an impressive achievement in our wet west coast climate and a real money saver, since we can buy enough hay for the whole year at the peak of haying season and at its best price.

I don’t know if the builders were barn design experts, or if our barn’s functionality was just a happy accident, but either way, the almost fifty year old building still does its job beautifully. Over the past few years, it’s needed some restoration work, as well as a new roof, and it’s been money well spent and a job well done by our soon to be son-in-law. This morning, as I hung out enjoying the sunshine and listening to the equines contentedly munching their hay (such a peaceful sound), I once again quietly thanked whoever designed and built it. Form and function, this humble barn has it all.

West Coast Snow Dayz

15 Monday Feb 2021

Posted by Jodi in Chickens, Equines, Seasons, Weather

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With more than a foot of snow falling over the last couple days, getting around the barnyard has been a trial. Especially hauling full water buckets. RG came home today from a weekend at her boyfriend’s (it’s ok, covid safety is important to our family, he’s in her bubble) and promptly shoveled all the hundreds of feet of trails I had stomped through the drifts while doing chores, right down to bare ground. She also texted me a few times as she worked, to warn of particularly slippery areas. ❤️

DH cleared the whole driveway, multiple times. And worked on our road along with the other neighbourhood guys and their tractors. A narrow lane really, that dead ends not far past our place, the municipal plows don’t exactly prioritize it. He also carefully filled the back of my truck with snow, packed and levelled for safety, in case I need to go anywhere. We have a fairly large parking area and drive, his snowbanks are now taller than his tractor. ❤️

Chores were so much easier this morning, even though I had some fence repair to do. George had once again knocked down the electric line between him and the donks, in a fit of pique about the weather I’m sure. I can tell it was him and not the donks because a) he is the one with the temper; and b) the donkeys have not set foot outside their stall since the ground turned white. I had to move their water inside, when I realized about twelve hours in (!) they had not gone for a drink since it started. The chickens don’t like it either. All the barnyard crew are getting fed up with this white stuff, they tell me so every time I go out to see them. Except the ducks who love to eat it, puddle around in it, and turn it into a soggy poopy mess, much like they do bare ground.

I am getting fed up with it too. I don’t know how my prairie relatives manage their version of our Canadian winter. Better than us west coasters handle this snow I’m sure…

Fortress Blueberry

16 Saturday May 2020

Posted by Jodi in Equines, Farm Improvements, Farm Life, Farm Produce, Gardening, Reduce, reuse, recycle, Wildlife

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We all love blueberries around here, so two or three years ago I brought home a couple blueberry plants from the feed store, and planted them out near the pond in the Tarzan Tree field. We wrapped plastic netting around them, and left them to their own devices. They never did much, returning our almost-complete lack of attention with their almost-complete lack of fruit, the ultimate tit-for-tat.

Growing no less fond of blueberries as time went by, this year I doubled down tenfold. When the blueberry man posted his Facebook ad I answered it, and a couple weeks later ten nice blueberry bushes appeared in our driveway. I was going big.

Resident Gardener rolled her eyes a little bit at my folly, but she took half of them out to the Tarzan Tree field and planted them anyway. She had been giving my poor neglected blueberries some love, and a bit of pruning, and this year they actually had some flowers! When the five new ones went in, it seemed we had achieved an actual blueberry patch!

Fast forward a few weeks, and I’m looking for a new project since I now had the raspberry patch sorted. So when RG mentioned the bunnies had been getting at my new blueberry bushes, I went to check it out. Little buggers! Our jury-rigged plastic fence enclosure obviously wasn’t up to the job. The five plants she had set out were now half the size of the five she had transplanted into bigger pots and arranged beside the house until the fall rains came, when we would add them to the patch.

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Well, here was my new project. I couldn’t have asked for a more clear wake-up call. I had a blueberry patch now, dammit. I wasn’t going to let those dang bunnies take out my blueberry patch!

Over the next few weeks, in spare minutes here and there, usually at the ends of long days, I would wander out to the blueberry patch and do a bit of work. I scavenged materials from all over the farm, a part-roll of chicken wire left over from coop construction, some rusty but solid t-posts donated by a generous neighbour, some slender eight-foot bamboo poles harvested last fall from our prized clump of black bamboo, and of course the yards and yards of six-foot plastic deer fencing that had enclosed the blueberries, useless against the bunnies but perfectly suited to stringing from bamboo poles to keep the deer out. I even had all the zip ties I needed. My only purchase was the white plastic t-post fence caps, to prevent clumsy horses impaling themselves.

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Having researched effective bunny fences online, I started my install. Pounding in the posts to form a nice big enclosure was the easiest bit. Rolling out 70 feet of 4-foot chicken wire so I could fold up a border a foot wide all along, then rolling it up again and man-handling it over to where I had installed the t-posts, so I could unroll and fasten it along the fence line, was the trickiest bit.

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Uninstalling and untangling, then reinstalling the plastic deer fencing RG had jury-rigged was the most time-consuming bit. Building the gate was the hardest bit, luckily Dear Husband came along just as I had finished the basic frame, pointed out it’s shortcomings, and pitched in to help correct it. A good teacher as always, DH more facilitated my build than took it over.

One of our big city pandemic refugees, a young man currently furloughed from Vancouver’s film industry, went after the weeds with a vengeance. He had almost the whole patch beautifully weeded in one afternoon. RG mulched along behind him, as I continued work on my fence.

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On Mother’s Day we finished our magnificent blueberry fortress. Almost. We will sheet mulch the grassy areas so they will be broken down and ready for the other five bushes in October. We may need to add some featherlight netting to cover the top before the berries ripen, to save them from the birds. RG thinks not. Her theory is that there are so many wild berries in our valley that ripen in August at the same time as blueberries, we may be ok. Time will tell. One thing for sure, those darned bunnies are going to have to go elsewhere for their blueberry fix now. Unless the little buggers can chew through chicken wire.

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More Rain!

10 Monday Feb 2020

Posted by Jodi in Equines, Farm Improvements, Farm Life, Seasons, Weather

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On top of January’s once-in-10-years rainfall accumulation, we got more than ten mm of rain a day in February until the 8th when the sun finally shone.  Our muddy valley is sopping, dripping wet. Keeping the barnyard crew comfortable (and thus healthy and thriving) is currently a very hard slog.

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The farrier came last week and to our relief pronounced the equines’ feet to be in pretty good shape, better than most he’s seen recently. Lots of horses in our area are up to their fetlocks in mud and nowhere dry to stand. 😕

Luckily our hoofed creatures have a dry barn floor, as well as a high spot here and there in the paddocks to take refuge on. We’re hoping it will dry up enough that we can get the tractor in the paddocks to scrape the worst areas…but the rain keeps falling.  Maybe later this week, fingers crossed.

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We ALL enjoyed Saturday’s sunshine, and the sky (!) somehow a richer shade of blue than I remember. Washed clean I guess. Sunday morning we were back to steel-grey heavens, with a little sun in the afternoon.

Even my fully roofed chicken pens are soggy. I can’t count the number of mud-filled wheelbarrows I have sledged over squishy fields to dump on the poo pile. It’s sure a good workout!

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I’ve learned some tricks since those first few winters, when I literally had streams running through my chicken pens. All summer long I throw heaps of veggie garden thinnings etc. in the pens, giving the birds their own private compost pile nirvana while building up the ground litter. By winter, this high ground deflects the surface water run-off around the pens instead of through them. When the chickens track in enough water that the ground gets muddy, (it has to rain a LOT for this to happen) I can use my trusty Restore pitchfork to pry up and remove the top couple of inches of mud throughout the whole pen, revealing fairly dry soil underneath.  This year, I’ve already had to do this two or three times in each pen. I will have to stop soon though, the ground height is dropping, with actual puddles seeping up in a couple spots. Time to change strategy and start deploying pallets over the worst areas to keep my girls out of the muck.

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The dust baths are stocked full of dry peat moss and wood ash from the fireplace. The chickens LOVE it, more so in this weather of course. The ladies’ public baths are crowded! Some birds need a bit more care, developing pendulous mud balls on their chests that need clipping out, or rinsing if it’s warm enough and they can run around to dry. I have never, in all my years keeping chickens, had the pendulous-mud ball issue before. It just goes to show that there’s always something new with chickens.

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This weekend, I can feel spring just around the corner. The osoberry is beginning to flower, and the alder catkins are swelling. Soon they will be dropping everywhere, detonating on impact in little yelllow puffs of smoke, and my poor DH will be sniffling and closing windows.
Of course the winter-flowering hellebore and snowdrops have been blooming for a while now. I wonder if we will get another dump of snow before old man winter is finished with us? These last few years, snow in February has been a thing here. I guess we’ll find out soon enough!
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A Donkey’s Nightmare

18 Saturday Jan 2020

Posted by Jodi in Equines, Farm Life

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We keep Roxy and Maria as companions for our old horse George. He likes the company. If we pasture him away from his donkeys, he charges around and has a fit.

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We can’t keep them together though, George is too much of a bully for that. It’s one of those ‘can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em situations’ for old George. He has always been the dominant horse in the herd, compelled to assert himself,  and the donkeys are just no match for him, they’re too little! But he loves them. ❤️

When we put George out to graze, we always put the donkeys in the next field to his. The donks, being much smarter than a horse and fully able to get through most of our summer fencing, wisely stay wherever they are put. They embrace their role. Even though they have each other, and so don’t need George, they seem to know that the old grouch needs them.

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When the fields are too soft in our muddy valley, the three equines share a large paddock with drainage, split down the middle with electric fencing, a big walkout stall on each side. The stalls, deep and open to the east, are both winter morning sun traps and shadowy summer retreats. Whoever designed our barn knew what they were doing.

Its a good set up, but once in a while, as per normal when one keeps animals, something goes wrong. And something did, last week, as I discovered when I went out one morning to feed.

I barely glanced at George as I walked by him on my way to heave the barn door open. I registered that he was grouchy, but put it down to the sopping wet weather we’d had all week. I paid more attention when he charged into his stall and pivoted to toss his head at me, ears pricked well forward, plainly trying to get my attention.

That’s when I saw the snarl of electric fence wire spread across the stall mat, and somehow attached to George’s behind! He stood there facing me, one hind leg convulsively hovering in mid air, giving me a desperate look.

I quickly turned and pulled the plug, cutting power to the fence, then grabbed the hay bale scissors, turned back and flipped the gate latch open, stepping into the stall. I couldn’t see yet exactly how the wire was joined to the horse, but I could see one main string, so I snipped it as close as I could safely get to George’s hindquarters. He was still just standing there, lifting and lowering that one leg and gazing at me earnestly. Asking urgently for help to get this monster snake thing off his back legs. Did I mention that George is terrified of snakes?

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Now, I wasn’t going to just head for his tail and rummage around back there, not with him so antsy. I have in the past occasionally forgotten that George is a thousand pound prey animal with a relatively small brain, and paid the price in bruises. So I haltered him and ‘tied’ him (quick release), then having established that modicum of control, moved around back to investigate.

The wire was twisted in his tail, and threaded THROUGH the winter blanket straps that cross between his legs and up towards his belly, clipping the back half of his blanket on. How the hell did he do that? It seems an impossibility, but somehow he had. And he’d been running around, for who knows how long, all over the paddock, with an electric fence chasing him. Poor George.

With my scissors I had him freed in a jiffy, slipped his halter off and then realized! The donkeys! In all the kerfuffle, I had completely forgotten about the donkeys. I looked over their way, to see two sad little donks huddled in the corner of their paddock, looking quite shaken. Poor things. How long had they been trapped in the same enclosure as their upset next door neighbour, and he threatening them with that fence that bites?

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I got the electric fence restrung as quick as I could, to give the donkeys respite, and then was finally able to feed the three equines and get on with the rest of my chores. George settled down immediately, munching away contentedly in his stall, but not the poor traumatized donkeys. They would not go near that stall, that horse or their hay!

He must have cornered them in there at some point. I did the best I could to reassure them, talking to them encouragingly as I filled waterers and feeders and let out birds. Eventually brave Roxy tiptoed into the stall and snatched a mouthful, retreating outside to chew. And then another. Soon she was spending more time inside than out, settling down to eat breakfast. It took Maria longer, but as I finished up and headed back towards the house, I saw she had dared to grab her first couple mouthfuls. I knew her fear would fade from there.

What a nightmare it all must have been for the poor donkeys. Clumsy George had not only done it to himself, he’d made them collateral damage. Oh George, you are such an oaf sometimes.

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Satisfying Sunny Saturday

17 Sunday Mar 2019

Posted by Jodi in Chickens, Equines, Farm Life, Seasons, Weather

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A warm sunny Saturday, our first since last year, and we all took full advantage. The dogs lounged in the winter field, sprawled in the sun on velvet grass, jumping up from time to time to escort another hungry, hopeful raptor out of barnyard airspace. Somnolent equines sunbathed, twitching an ear now and then. Feathery chicken metronomes ranged in formation across the short turf, clipping the fine new grass with sharp beaks, occasionally glancing longingly at K’s well protected kale patch. 

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That kale! A month ago they were poor frozen kale-sicles buried under two feet of snow. I was sure they would thaw to mush. Today though, plucky little kale trees stand tall, offering their purple green topknots to the sky, worshipping the warm rays. Lean, wrinkly garden gnomes with big hair.

Black Silkie has declared herself broody again. She just finished raising a crop of winter babies! I don’t think she laid more than a couple eggs before she decided it was once again time to set. Tonight I will move her and her eggs to the seclusion of the barn. Otherwise it will be mere days until the rest of the Silkie hens quit laying and join her. With Silkies, broodiness is contagious. And I have hatching egg customers waiting for eggs.

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Dear husband continued work on his shop exterior and from the barnyard I could faintly hear his power tools flare up from time to time, as another piece of metal siding got cut, or screw got sunk, or cedar shingle got stapled to a gable end.

K sowed seeds in the warmest parts of her south facing yard garden, early peas and sweet peas and other hardy annuals. Then hooked up the pump, preparing to easily water her new-sown plots throughout what they say will be a week of sun. A week of sun! If all goes according to plan, those seeds should fairly leap out of the ground.

At midday I drew the Wyandotte flock back into their pen with a handful of scratch, and freed the black chicken flock for the first time since moving my Marans in with my Barnevelders hens a week ago. The Barnie eggs I had hatched to provision my girls with a man or two had yielded a crop of bizarrely coloured cockerels, totally unsuited for breeding. Sigh. Back to the drawing board on the Barnie project. I wish people wouldn’t sell their experiments as purebred hatching eggs.

In the meantime, blending the Barnie and Marans flocks makes for one less coop to maintain, and gives the Marans a more pleasant abode for this time of year than their shady creekside pen. Fertility is poor with the Marans this year, and with fertile eggs in high demand, I am trying everything to make them more comfortable and thus promote happy chicken sex.

The Marans love their new home, with its sunnier aspect and roomier roosts. Egg production picked up immediately. The nestbox arrangement though, needed to be improved. Marans are not petite birds, and the four box diamond DH had built for me a couple years back was a little tight for birds of their size. I was tired of cramped birds staring reproachfully at me as they uncomfortably laid their eggs in those close quarters.

So I dug out a nestbox picture I had admired on the internet, consulted DH to ensure I started off on the right track, hauled out my tools, picked through the used lumber pile till I found what I needed, and got to work.

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I was sure it would take me a couple days to finish my roomier nest box tower but much to my surprise and satisfaction, it was done in an afternoon. Good tools and a bit of experience, I reflected while admiring my creation, sure make the difference. There is honestly nothing better, in my opinion, than an idyllic afternoon in the barnyard, puttering. And a tangible goal met at the end is the icing on the cake!

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Last night when I went out late to lock up after my dear brother’s birthday dinner, there was a dark cinnamon marans egg in the bottom box, and a little Isbar hen installed at the back of the top box, brooding over a single sky blue egg. Nope little lady, you’re not taking over this box for the next 21 days. If you insist, I will move you to a broody box, and we’ll see how well you stick to your resolution.

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Happiness is…a Full Hayloft

10 Tuesday Jul 2018

Posted by Jodi in Equines, Farm Improvements

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Nom nom nom, tasty new hay! The equines are pretty happy to have switched over to this year’s fragrant green crop. And we’re pretty happy to have a barn loft full of the stuff, capably grown and correctly cut, dried and baled by a local gentleman farmer with a very green thumb. Enough to take us through to next July for sure.

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The last few 2017 bales had turned yellow and dusty, as expected for year old hay. But no mold on the old hay this year for the first time in 20 years, a real accomplishment in our coastal rainforest climate. Why? It’s that new ridge vent the Acadian Customs boys installed last year with our barn’s nice new roof. Better ventilation (oh, and no more leaks!) has made all the difference!

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Pratfall

12 Monday Mar 2018

Posted by Jodi in Chance, Chickens, Equines, Seasons

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Sitting peacefully in the barnyard, chickens scratching and pecking, equines dozing, dogs on casual guard duty, soaking up the early spring sun.

A curious Welsummer hen walking along the tops of a row of metal garbage cans steps on a loose lid, up it tips and down she goes into the depths of the oyster shell bin, the lid clattering down like a trick trap door.

I jump up, lift the lid and out she flies, protesting loudly. Her panic triggers a general alarm. Everyone dives for cover, all the roosters screaming “Warning!Danger!”.

Dogs stand at alert, scanning the area. Silkie rooster, his hens and chicks safely in their coop, stations his brave little self just outside the coop door, ready for battle with the unseen enemy.

The barnyard is empty now, even the baby grow out pen birds, at 3 weeks old fully understanding the seriousness of the situation, hiding inside their coop.

As the minutes tick by and the enemy fails to show, the warnings slow, then stop, and silence ensues, for a minute.

Then the roosters start crowing. Claiming the barnyard for themselves again, warning the enemy off. First to sound off is David Cassidy the Swede, then Mr Wyandotte, then Mr Marans, and so on down the seniority line, finishing up with Mr. Barred Rock, the youngest adult male.

And ten or so minutes after Welsummer’s pratfall, the barnyard is back to normal. Everyone is relieved, except disappointed dogs who found no one to chase.

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Midwinter on the Wet Coast

28 Sunday Jan 2018

Posted by Jodi in Chickens, Equines, Farm Life, Seasons, Weather

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It’s the muddy season here in our west coast valley and we’ve had a typical winter so far, with an early taste of ice and snow, and an ultra-rare white Christmas that dissolved by Boxing Day. Many rainy cloudy days have come our way, punctuated by occasional blustery sunny afternoons as one storm blows out and the next pushes in. Today we are enjoying another Pineapple Express, straight from Hawaii, carrying lots of moisture and balmy morning temperatures of around 8 degrees Celsius.

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This soft grey Sunday morning, the tapping of my keyboard is echoed by the raindrops falling on the skylight, skittering down the roof, collecting in the gutter and gurgling through the downspout into the full rain barrel. Spilling through the overflow valve, the rainwater sinks into the lawn, and trickles down to be gathered up by our little amazon of a creek, who roars with the excitement of it all as she industriously delivers her storm water bounty to the Colquitz river and then down to the Salish Sea.

On the rare occasions where the sun does come out, the barnyard crew is electrified, as if they all have solar panels embedded in their backs. George’s blanket comes off and he rolls exuberantly in the surprisingly still dryish winter paddock.

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The chickens run around like, well, chickens with their heads cut off, gorging on the creepy crawlers who have likewise ventured out to soak up the rare sunshine.  The feeder is heavy with uneaten crumbles at day’s end, spurned in favour of tender grubs and new shoots of green green grass.

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When I can escape my obligations, I rush outside too, shake the earwigs out of my folding chair and set up in a sunny patch to watch the fun, cup of tea at my elbow. The flock is looking great, well rested and in their fresh new feather coats, moulting season finished, and egg production just starting to ramp up. They are rejuvenated and ready to go, poised to meet spring’s unstoppable urges, to lay prodigious numbers of eggs, and hatch prodigious numbers of chicks, ready to keep pace with the year’s coming leap forward into fecundity and abundance.

Spring! We can hardly wait!

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