reduced for quick sale

After we started feeding grass hay to Tessa we had new tenants move into the barn... mice. The hay had a tiny amount of oats and seeds that apparently were quite yummy to farm varmits. What's a pesticide-free farm to do?

Meet Henry, the new barn cat. Henry was reduced for quick sale at the Animal Shelter. RT and Bee and I found him online on New Year's Eve day. The shelter was running a special on senior cats - adopt one for free. So, on a whim, we trekked down to the shelter to find "Cheyenne" - ack! This guy was definitely not a "Cheyenne." He was a big but skinny mellow cat. We instantly loved him and had to take him home. He had already had "the surgery", so he was good to go. Well, we find out later that it was a surgery that had gone a little wrong - hence the first vet visit that was scheduled while on the way home. So much for a free cat... And actually so much for going home. After "Cheyenne" had braved the shelter fro three weeks, he was fortunate enough to sit in the car in a crate while we went out to lunch and then on to Costco.

While at lunch that day we tossed around many names, but we finally decided on a dignified, simple name for a seemingly simple guy... Henry. Henry spent the first week on the farm in a huge crate in the goat stall. Strange and unusual roommates I'm sure he was thinking. His crate was in the barn, so that he could learn where to sleep and work. Mieces to pieces... Well, about 24 hours after Henry arrived what seemed like a three week storm began. Henry quickly moved to a fleece cat bed on the back porch - out of the wind and weather - and consequently, out of the barn. So much for our barn cat, at least for now.

Over the last month and a half, Henry has put on weight and has adjusted beautifully to life on our small farm. He makes the trip from the porch to the barn several times a day to eat his kibbles. He chases the dogs, watches the chickens, runs from the goats, and sleeps for hours at a time in the sunny spots under the back porch. He hasn't caught a single mouse - that we know of. But we have news for Henry...when the rain stops, he's going to work.

poultry show

Last weekend we were first-timers at the Stockton Poultry Show. It's a different sort of folk that visits a poultry show... We went for the poultry sale, which turns out was a competitive, contact sport. Chicken people are quite determined when it comes to getting the perfect pullet. We learned so new things like: 1. Don't be afraid to throw an elbow if it means you get a closer look into a cage. 2. If supplies are running low, chances are there are more of the same birds stuffed in a crate under the table where you're standing. 3. You must have your cell phone with you, because when you are standing in front of the cage that has a bird that you want you must call the breeder on his cell phone. He will then wonder over to where you're at to show you the bird. And as I'm listening to the guy talk I got that panicky feeling like when you're talking to a car salesman and you're faking that you know what they're talking about when actually you have not a clue as to what he is talking about. And I did at one point stuff 50 bucks into the old guys hand and say, "Just pick us out a good one..." Yeehaw.

After circling the sale barn for about two hours, with Isabel in a wheelchair - long story - we finally made two purchases. I tried to make a third purchase, for an "insurance" bird if you will, but no more bantam Old English Game pullets to be had. So nobody better croak... Riley ended up with a beautiful Golden Seabright who promptly tried to fly away as soon as he took her out of the crate. After Greg pulled her from the middle of a bush she was aptly named Amelia. Bee picked a Black Breasted Red Old English Game pullet. Quite a long title for a teeny tiny bird, who turns out to be a big bully (poor Amelia.) Isabel's bird has been through a few names already. I'm not sure which name we have picked for today: Annabell, Grace, Sophie. We all voted for Gilly.

Upon returning home, and after making lunch, everyone's chicken bootys were dusted again, and the new chickens were dusted. They are way easier to do than the full-sized models. You just grab them by the back and flip them over - no flapping and squawking. I look forward to a weekend when I'm not looking at anyones vent!