Cousin Ken and the Tractor

My cousin Ken has been learning to care for his dad's old John Deere tractor that's on display at the Corn Stand. This week he managed to start it himself after only two pulls. Anyone who thinks this isn't an outstanding accomplishment should try it themselves.

Ken has also learned to drive the tractor. Here's a little video of him backing it into its parking space after a trip down the farm road and back.

At work, Ken drives trains. More accurately, he stops them. So driving a tractor is small potatoes. That's Uncle Jim at the end of the video.

You may not have noticed, but the front tires on the tractor are not as yellow as the back tires. That's because they weren't painted with authentic John Deere paint, and now it's starting to fade. So the next day Ken showed up with his tiny $48 container of authentic paint and fixed that problem.

We talked about borrowing one of the passenger wagons from the Corn Stand, loading up the Blawats, and doing a road trip around the fields behind the old John Deere. We could take a cooler of food (and beer) (and wine) and our sleeping bags. The tractor is a little on the slow side, we might be out there for a while.

Herding Chickens

I have never owned a cow, but members of my family have. I got to observe their different cow herding techniques over the years.

One cowboy used well-trained dogs to help. He taught the dude cowhands to stay well back, just keep a steady, slow pressure on the herd, and they'd go the right way. If a cow took off for the brush, it would usually come out if the herd kept moving. If not, he'd send the dogs after it. He did not want horses running across the rocks after a cow.

Another cowboy had dogs that were useless. They mostly stayed tied in the truck. His cowhands were also useless. There was a lot of showing off, galloping through brush and over rocks, yelling and dust. The cows ended up everywhere. Occasionally a horse or a rider would get hurt. I hated riding with this bunch.

And then there was Artie. He was 83 the first time I met him. He had a big old ranch in the Sierras. He rode an old horse and had an ancient dog. He pretty much handled his cows by himself. In the corral, it was just Artie, using his cane to separate the cows. A cow would look at him and he'd use his cane to point which way it should go, then waved his other hand to move it on. The dog laid outside the corral. When needed, he would bark.

Herding chickens is not much different than herding cows. You can run all over chasing them, and getting nowhere, or you can use your knowledge of chicken psychology. For example:

Last week two baby chicks hatched out in the mutt pen. Two hens had been sitting on the nest, and there were hens on two other nests. I didn't want the hens to all jump up and try to mother the chicks, leaving the other eggs exposed. So I had Bob grab one of the new mamas and the two chicks and I put them in a large rabbit hutch. My plan was to keep them there until the other eggs in the mutt pen hatched, then put them back.

That plan was working just fine. Yesterday there were two more chicks in the mutt pen, with two more mamas claiming them. I thought it would be a good time to move the caged mama and her babies back. Bob wasn't here, so I attempted to do this myself.

Here's the thing about chickens. Even though most of them can fly a bit, they're usually looking down. They will run before they fly. If you follow them slowly and herd them into a corner, they'll be looking for a way out, will put their head down and (in my yard) through the chain link wire, and then you just reach down and pick them up. Another tried-and-true method is to use a 10 foot section of rolled chicken wire. Unwind it loosely into a spiral shape. Guide the chickens into the open end, they go around the spiral and get stuck in the tighter part, then you just reach down and pick them up.

That didn't work for me yesterday. The rabbit hutch doesn't have a front door, the door is the roof section. When I opened it, the hen looked down for a second and ran to the corner. Then she looked up and flew. She flew out of the cage onto the ground by my feet. No problem, there was a corner in the chain link fence nearby. I moved my foot to encourage her in that direction and the hen looked up again. From the ground, she flew like a pigeon, up into the air, over the horse barn and out into the pasture. She didn't fly like a chicken at all, squawking all the way and flapping about, she was very good at it, quiet and efficient.

Well fooey. The chicks were having a fit. I tried putting them in the mutt pen with the other two chicks, but the mamas wouldn't go for that idea. So I caught them again and put them in a brooder in the house. My new plan was that if I could get the flying hen back into the mutt pen, I'd give her back her kids. If she stayed outside the yard and got eaten, I could raise the chicks myself.

There are no corners in the horse pasture that have small enough mesh to trap a chicken. I gave the hen a few minutes to calm down, but not long enough for the feral cats to notice her, then went out to find her. I thought I could herd her back into the yard somehow. She was on top of the horse barn. I tossed a couple of rocks at her, thinking she would get down, but she just took off and flew again, this time onto the carport roof another 30 yards away. I gave her another short while to calm down.

When I finally went into the back yard, I couldn't see her on the carport roof. I looked and looked. Finally I looked up.

The pigeons were as amazed as I was. They were drawing straws to see which of them should go over and tell this bird she could not stay in their territory. Pigeons are very territorial.

I decided then to try another chicken herding strategy - give the stray a chance to join up with the herd. So I let Alan and the two Spots out into the yard to act as the herd. The hen on the roof was their baby, hopefully she'd join her parents, then follow them back into the mutt pen.

The stray hen watched as her parents ran around the yard looking for bugs.

She was FINALLY looking down. So I tossed a rock onto the roof.

See that cedar tree in the background to the left? It's 20 feet tall and 60 feet away. The hen flew from the roof, cleared the pigeon pen by about 10 feet, and landed in that tree. By now I was considering calling the cats.

I got a glass of iced tea, though, pulled up a chair, and waited. It took a half hour for the ditzy hen to fly back down to the top of the chain link fence around the yard, then another 15 minutes before she finally joined her parents on the ground.

From there on it was easy. Alan ran over and chewed out his daughter, pecking her gently on the head and telling her what an idiot she was. When I clapped my hands the two Spots ran to the gate, Alan followed, pushing the little girl along like he was a herding dog. I closed the gate behind them, then went to retrieve the chicks.

All's well that ends well.

Just for Fun

I saw a couple of things on Facebook that made me snicker. I stole them from there to share with you.

This is especially for my friend Yorkshire Pudding, who lives in England and has an affinity for Easter Island. Now we know why.

My theory is that YP is a descendant of the ancient human race that used to provide pedicures for the giant aliens. His yearning for Easter Island is genetic. Perhaps one of his ancestors used to give alien haircuts.

Next, there was a small earthquake in Northern California yesterday. I know people think earthquakes happen all the time here because when there's a big one it gets lots of publicity. That's because our forefathers built the biggest cities right on the fault lines.

Many of us in California are more at risk from wildfires or flooding than from earthquakes, and the prospect of living through a tornado like the folks in Oklahoma is terrifying. We really have it pretty easy in Sacramento County.

New people, new things, new times

The small farming community where I live is in a river valley. Construction of new houses is not allowed because of flood danger. That's a very good thing, or the valley would be covered with houses by now. Construction is all around us, just on the other side of the hills that ring the valley. I can see none of it from my house (hallelujah!).

Most of the houses here are occupied by their owners, or by people with connections to the farming community. Three are not. They are like small city lots in the middle of everything. At least 60 years ago one of the farm families needed houses for their kids. There were 4 of them built on small parcels across the highway from my house, right next to the levee (they didn't waste farm land for houses in those days). That family eventually sold their farm land, but their relatives still lived across the road. They didn't farm, they had jobs in town. I grew up with their kids. One house is still occupied by the family. The others have been sold a few times.

No one with any sense would buy a small house on a small lot, with Hwy. 16 in the front yard and a substandard levee in the back yard. Which is why the buyers often come from Southern California. They don't have a clue how to live in a farming community. They don't understand that what looks like open space is actually someone else's property and they probably have a good reason why they want you to stay off it.

One of the houses recently changed hands again. They haven't introduced themselves to anyone yet, but they've set up targets in their tiny yard and spent an hour shooting on a Saturday afternoon. They had a party and directed their guests to park on someone else's property because there isn't enough space at their house.

Sigh. Another batch of idiots.

It has been a busy week for me. More chicks hatched and all are fine so far. An older bird died, however, and I took it to the lab at UC Davis to see why. No word yet.

As the chicks grow, I rearrange the older birds to make room for them. This week I moved a batch of 20. By the time I got them situated I'd cleaned and sanitized 4 pens. Whenever I move birds I take the opportunity to trim their beaks and nails and inspect them for problems. When I move the young birds I change their leg bands if needed and write the new number on their 3x5 card. This time I weighed all the birds and took their photos, too. It's a lot of bird wrangling. I'll be doing it again in 2 weeks when the next batch needs to go out. After that I don't know. I don't actually have space for as many birds as I have, so it will be time to start culling and taking the ones I don't need to the auction. That will pretty much be my summer this year. Hopefully all the effort ends in a successful show season and next year I'll only have to raise 30 chicks to get what I need.

I had a visitor this week. Ms. Spider came along as I was eating my curds and whey (modern version, Greek yogurt) at the computer. She investigated the icons for a while, then stayed for an hour or so reading blogs with me.

The pigeons have been out for a few hours every day. They're learning to avoid the cats. The old Taganrog female, grandma to half the pigeons who live here, finally died this week. She spent last winter in the house because she was so feeble, but she had a good spring outside with the gang. Every morning I'd find her taking a sun bath in the corner of the pen. And she was always the first to the feeder when I filled it.

I have discovered that the feral cats like canned dog food better than canned cat food. That's great because dog food is cheaper and comes in bigger cans.

A couple of months ago I read about a product for older cats on one of the blogs I read. The writer had a very old cat that was failing. She used Liquitinic and said it helped him enough to keep him around for a while longer. I decided to try it.

No, I mean I decided to get some and try it on Velcro. The directions say to squeeze a dropperful of the stuff into the cat's mouth. It would probably be easier to squeeze it into the other end of the cat, where there are no teeth and the claws point the other direction. I got the dropper into Velcro's mouth once, before she woke up and figured out what was happening. Most of the liquid went on the floor and on my clothes. After that I put it on her food. She eats it fine that way. Gollie and Velcro eat out of the same two-sided dish, though, and I never know which side each cat will choose. So I started putting drops on both sides.

This stuff works pretty well. I doubt it would resurrect a dying cat, but it sure has helped my old girl. She's walking better and her skin and coat are healthier, I used to have to vacuum the dandruff off her. She had one eye that was always teary and that has has also cleared up. With Gollie I've observed that she doesn't have her yearly bald spot by her tail, and her coat is very soft instead of sparse and coarse.

Velcro and Gollie have been on really good quality cat food for a couple of years, so I guess I didn't expect that a supplement would have much of an effect, but it does. I recommend it.

Bob ended a chapter in his life last night. He took his last final and spent his last day in class.

I bought a couple of decorations, his 3 favorite kinds of ice cream, and both kinds of Ovaltine to put on top. Velcro and I put up the decorations, then waited anxiously for him to get home. Velcro was so excited, she threw up on the carpet by the door.

It was a short celebration, Bob checked his email, had some ice cream, then went to bed. He has been at work at 4 a.m. all week.

I'm really proud of the kid, he did it all himself and paid for it himself. Now he's already working in the business and owes money to no one. It will be fun to see where he goes from here, the sky's the limit.

Chores beckon and I must go.

Checking in Again

I've been outside a lot in the past two weeks, working on the flower beds. Today I have some repairs to make on the automatic watering system, and then I should be able to sit out there in the shade in the afternoons and just enjoy the flowers. Yesterday I did a trial run; I pulled a lawn chair out of storage and set it up. Soon I had been joined by 5 cats. Most of them found a cool place on the lawn and stretched out. Slinker, the orange tom, can't lie still for a minute. He'd walk round and round, find a likely spot, lay there for a while, then sneak a little closer. Rosie perched on an old piece of concrete.

That view is not of the garden, Rosie was sitting behind me, near the wood shed. I haven't been back there to clean up yet.

There are so many nice things about being outside. The scents, the dirt, the sounds of the doves and pigeons and hummingbirds. I've been able to let the pigeons out almost every day. We haven't seen a hawk for quite a while now. The pigeons are much happier, the wild doves (English doves, not native ones) are not. Even though all the pigeons do is sit on the roof or the power lines, the doves scold them continually.

I thought there were 3 hummingbirds in the yard. This morning I see 5 of them. I have to refill the feeder every day. How do tiny birds eat that much? I even heard them at the feeder last night after dark, it's just outside the window where I sit at my computer.

There are a couple of annoying things about being outside working with tools and animals all day. First, everything I bang into leaves a bruise or a bloody scratch on my aging, paper-thin skin. I get little blood stains on my clothes. The roosters are also hard on my hands and arms this time of year. They get aggressive when the hens have babies. Shoes are a problem. I change shoes 3 times a day to keep blisters from forming, so at the end of the day I have 3 pairs of filthy shoes and a stack of stained laundry. I've spent a small fortune on Band-aids, trying to find some that will stay on, but won't rip my skin when I take them off. My arms are a mess from elbow to wrist, just at the time of year when long sleeves aren't practical.

I had a very nice Mother's Day with my son Bob and his girlfriend Anna. Anna's mom is away on vacation for a couple of weeks, so she got to spend the day with us. Later, they went to see The Great Gatsby and posed for a picture for me.

Bob has about a week of school left. He has done so well and already has a job in the industry he's earning his Certificate. It will be nice to see him more often, he won't be spending 16 hour days at work and school combined. On the other hand, he'll be spending his evenings in front of his computer, slowing down the internet connection. Maybe I can talk him into joining a bowling team.

I'm still hatching chicks. There are almost 100 now. Everything has gone well except one hatch of 10 chicks developed some kind of problem and required a lot of doctoring. Some of the chicks got swollen crops and looked like this:

This wasn't an impacted crop, from undigested food, it was soft and spongy like it was filled with air. Three of the puffy chicks have died, a fourth isn't doing well. I had isolated the sick ones from the others and the others are fine. I hate it when I don't know what caused a problem, though, because then I can't prevent it.

Some of the white Old English bantams have hatched their own babies. Thankfully these hens did not inherit their mother's tendency to sit happily on the eggs, then try to kill the babies when they hatched. Even so, one ended up with some kind of ow on its head.

It's like a patch of feathered skin didn't develop. I don't think it was pecked because there was no blood or sign of injury. I brought this baby in the house, though, because this is just the sort of thing that would attract a hen's curiosity.

I have only a few more eggs in the incubator, and was planning to be finished hatching for the year. I've been mailing eggs to other people instead. That's quite an experience.

Then yesterday I discovered that the old grandma white OE had laid not one, but two eggs. I find this hard to believe, but I know the eggs were not in her cage in the morning and at 5 p.m. there were 2 of them in her feed bowl. They aren't fertile, but I've put a rooster in with her and am hoping to have some fertile ones soon. So I guess I'm not finished with incubating after all. This hen is ancient. I kept her in the house all winter, watching her doddle around, feeding her goodies and thinking she probably wouldn't survive until spring.

One problem with such a long hatching season is I can't take off for a few days, right at the best time of the year. Since I had some big expenses here this year with the pump and other repairs, I wouldn't get very far anyway. In a couple of weeks I should have the yard all primped, and Bob loves to fire up the BBQ. The corn will be a couple of weeks early this year, just after the middle of June, so we'll just stay home and have people over.

I hope your spring finally showed up. Ours is gone and summer is already here. The hills lost their green a couple of weeks ago and the days have been quite warm.

Garden Harmony

There may be discord in the world of people, but the garden is a peaceful, harmonious place right now.

Brawling Lawmakers

Once in a while we see little videos of legislators in other countries duking it out. This morning's episode was from Venezuela. I didn't check to see what they were arguing about. It just struck me that in other places there are elected representatives who care enough about their issues to get emotionally involved.

What a contrast to our own congressional representatives. Only the (D) or (R) after their names in the captions gives me a clue what they might stand for. Otherwise it's just one bland face after another. One more mindless statement, usually about an issue that matters not at all to me. No hint of intelligent life behind the mask, not a spark of enthusiasm or commitment.

Our representatives appear to fade into the woodwork, happy to be faceless and nameless on meaningful issues. Their biggest concern is staying in the castle. They are united against us in that effort, all the Rs and Ds. There are no great political orators anymore. No great debates on the floor of the Senate. Now they filibuster, mostly taking up space and time with meaningless drivel.

Give me one indication there is actual life in Congress, not a collection of bodysnatched bozos. Even the Tea Party people, when elected, lose their souls and seem to only be concerned about how to snuggle into bed with big business and benefit from the perks of the office.

I would prefer to see fist fights on the floors of Congress, or bitch slaps and hair pulling (equal opportunity). I would like to see an indication of any kind that there are people there who care about US, who remember what it's like to be a peon out here in the real world.

I propose, in this era of furloughs and cutbacks, that on the next ballot we start putting a place to check "None of the above." It's not enough to vote out one candidate and vote in yet another useless zombie. We can start letting some of those positions go unfilled. Think of the money we could save. 

I'd rather have fewer legislators than fewer air traffic controllers.