Little Jen in the Big Woods

21
Mar
2017

Chicken Flu

I’ve seen it again and again. The victims have no chance. Women get it. Men get it. Children get it. On rare occasions, I have actually seen a family pet get it. There is no cure, to my knowledge, and once you have it, things escalate quickly.

Of course, I’m not talking about the actual “bird flu,” but rather, an addiction. One day you’re browsing the baby chicks at the local feed store, and the next thing you know, you have 500 chickens, and you’re feverishly searching farm exchange websites on Facebook, looking for eggs to place in your incubator because YOU CANNOT STOP HATCHING BABY CHICKENS! Not that I have any clue about those things….

Ok,so…I snuck three Rhode Island Reds home from the feed store yesterday and slipped them in the brooder. I got “the look” from both of my daughters. “Nice trying sneaking those chicks in, Mom, but the little red ones are not two weeks old. They were just hatched. Plus, I counted. You are on the plus side by three.”

Busted. Again.

What’s the easiest way to tell if you suffer from this disease? At our house, we call it OCD (Obsessive Chicken Disorder). Here are the signs:

1. Naming your chickens: If you can pick your hen out of a lineup of same-breed chickens because she gives you that loving chicken stare, you may have a problem. “All chickens look the same,” you say. Uh huh. Whatever, man.

2. Shopping furiously for specific breeds: If you are scouring the internet late at night to find a designer chicken from Indonesia, you could have OCD. One day a white-crested black Polish chicken showed up at my door after a late night internet shopping spree. Whoops! Didn’t realize I actually added that to the cart.

3. Stalking local feed stores in the Spring: If your shed is full of chicken supplies in March because you slip by the local feed store during “chick days,” just to make sure you have enough food to keep your chickens happy. My friend, you’re not fooling anybody. You are going to admire the babies and do a bit of breed shopping. You know, just in case they pop up a container of Ayam Cemani chicks. Beware of the store clerks. They will talk you into buying chicks. “Aren’t these so cute? Best layers I’ve ever owned,” they’ll say convincingly. When you can no longer resist, they’ll throw a couple extra in for free. Jackpot!

4. Joining multiple farm exchange groups: This, at first, sounds like a really good idea. What could be better than a group of like-minded people, selling similar items to each other? I’m warning you. This can turn immediately into a death spiral. One day you’re buying eggs to hatch in your incubator, and then suddenly you look out your kitchen window and see two cows, a donkey, an alpaca, and four fainting goats. Stay away. Just don’t even start.

5. Becoming the butt of everyone’s chicken jokes: This is actually a cool one. I love seeing articles and posts about chickens. But you know you may have reached the OCD level when you have an average of ten posts a day shared to your FB timeline related to chickens. This probably indicates that you spend waaaayyy too much time talking about chickens in public. Time to dial it back a notch.

6. Maintaining a mental chicken inventory: I have a chicken perpetual inventory system going on in my head. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking, “Ok, so if I hatch four of the six in the incubator, that will give me 25. But then, when I give two of them to my chicken friend and add five more from the feed store, I should still be able to squeeze four more eggs in the incubator. I mean, I’ll give some of those away, and I’m sure they won’t all hatch anyway.” Yep. Giving away is probably not ever going to happen, and certainly not to a chick you hatched. It’s like tearing your arm off. Just give it a rest and understand that you’ll have too many chickens. Always.

7. Establishing an underground chicken society: I love my chicken “enablers,” as my husband calls them. These are the people you can call anytime, anywhere, and they will help you justify hatching or purchasing more chickens. “But you have been really wanting that breed.” “Think of all the beautiful egg colors you’ll have!” “I mean, really, what’s one more chicken? They’re tiny!” These are all common enabler phrases. These people really “get” you. They will meet you to exchange chicks whenever you need (I have been spotted in the Wal-Mart parking lot and even school yard, exchanging not drugs, but chickens), just to ensure your chicken mix is optimal. If they don’t have what you’re looking for, they will “hook you up” with another enabler. These people are the absolute best part of OCD. I met a new enabler yesterday at the feed store. He and his sweet wife hatch about 200 eggs at a time for the feed store chick sale. I asked him if they would adopt me. Can you imagine 200 baby chicks? Complete Heaven! And then I went home and put six eggs in the incubator.

To summarize….life is short, buy the chickens. They are amazing animals, and they give you breakfast. You will make wonderful friends with fellow chicken lovers. You will entertain everyone around you with your obsession. You will amaze and delight your friends with chicken knowledge. One warning…step away from the Facebook Live hatch cam. Nobody want to sit through that. If you don’t believe me, ask April the giraffe.

Hugs and Blessings Always,

LITTLE JEN IN THE BIG WOODS

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Night of the Living Dead Parakeet

categories: Dog Detour

Once upon a time, my daughter asked Santa for a bright blue parakeet. Santa delivered the bright blue parakeet on Christmas morning, and my girls promptly named him Nemo. Maybe not the most intuitive name choice, but it worked.

Nemo lived a happy albeit short life in his cage. We discovered him one day, face down in his food.

Not good.

We quickly wrapped him in tissue paper. Ewww. And took him outside for a short graveside service and burial. Nemo had gone to the other side, into the light. Everyone made peace with his death.

Everyone, that is, except our black lab, Rosie. Apparently, Rosie was grieving uncontrollably, and we were oblivious. I was only able to fully grasp that sorrow when I caught her holding, in her mouth….Nemo. Ewwww.

Yep. You got it. My dog sniffed out Nemo’s grave, dug him up, snuck him into the house, and was attempting to hide him when I busted her. After an exhausting game of chase, I regained possession of Nemo.

This time I took the bird to the garden. I wrapped him tightly in plastic, said another little prayer, and buried him in the tulips. The end…or so I thought.

Several days later while planting my tomato starts, I saw my dog rolling around on something blue. I was marveling at the joy and abandon with which she lives life when suddenly I realized….NO!!!!! NOT THE PARAKEET AGAIN!!!!

Ick.

Yep, she found the dead parakeet. Yep, she dug it up…along with my tulips. And yep, she was rolling all over it, ensuring that the smell of a month-old dead bird would be with us for quite some time.

My husband helped me dispose of Nemo this time by taking him deep into the woods and burying him once again. Rest in peace, Nemo. Finally.

It appeared that all was as it should be, which is EXACTLY when you should suspect it’s not. I was spending a cold Sunday afternoon on my bed, vegging out while watching Lifetime movies (my favorite Sunday activity). Rosie had been in and out of the room, alternating between snuggling with me and barking at squirrels through the front window.

Suddenly, she was back, laying quietly at my feet. As I reached down to pet her, I saw it….a bright blue bird, resting under her chin. Oh. My. Goodness.

I grabbed the bird and hurled it out the window into the snow. Needless to say, everything within ten feet of my bed had to be sterilized, including the dog. I made a mental note to get the bird from the snow later and drive it somewhere far, far away.

However, as you would suspect, I forgot about the bird until one bright sunny day, as we were relaxing in the backyard. Yes, you guessed it. Rosie found it before me. She was ecstatic to lay the bird at my feet. I responded by hurling the bird in the fire pit. And that, my friends, truly was the end. Nemo was cremated that beautiful Spring afternoon.

And the moral of this story is….don’t ever let people tell you zombies aren’t real. Ok, I probably watch too much Walking Dead, and my dog is a bit warped. But still. You’ll think twice before buying a bright blue parakeet, won’t you?

Hugs and Blessings Always,

LITTLE JEN IN THE BIG WOODS

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Lola the Magnificent

categories: Chicken Diaries

So my chicken addiction has taken a turn for the worse lately. Turns out when I’m tired, soaking in the bathtub, and scouring the internet late at night, I get easily get distracted by chickens.

"Baby" Big Red Lola the Magnificent image2 225x300 — “Baby” Big Red

This is a crazy question, but did you know you can buy chickens online? I know, right?!? I’m serious as a heart attack. What is this world coming to?

Anyway, I have found a fabulous chicken producer, Murray McMurray Hatchery, and I have a tendency to order chickens in the middle of the night from them.

I know, I know….sounds like a problem, you say. And my husband would TOTALLY agree with you. But they are beautiful, healthy chickens, and they are delivered via the US Postal Service.

Many people criticize their local post office, but not me. Those people are fabulous. And they don’t even blink at eye when my chickens are delivered. Well, anyway, they don’t treat me like a complete maniac because I get chickens in the mail. They are probably laughing behind my back, but I’m cool with that.

At the end of one particularly stressful day, I was doing a little “chicken browsing,” and I spotted her….the most beautiful chicken in the world. Seriously. I heard angels sing (or maybe the fatigue and glass of wine were singing). Regardless, I immediately named her “Lola” and got busy putting her in my online shopping cart.

Lola the Magnificent Lola the Magnificent image1 225x300 — Lola the Magnificent

She arrived a few days later, packaged carefully with fruit for her one-day journey. I could tell she loved me as much as I loved her the minute our eyes met. Ok, our eyes didn’t really meet because she is a Polish hen, and therefore, her eyes are covered with feathers. She did love me, though. I could just tell. I named her Lola. There really was no other name for her. She was destined to be “Lola.”

I transferred her carefully to a dog crate to begin her transition process to “The Coop.” As I think I’ve mentioned before, the transition process is extremely stressful for the chicken moving into the coop, the chickens already in the coop, and me.

Lola did just fine in the dog crate, except for the giant black lab, Rosie, and the tiny poodle, Sallie, who loved to sneak into the garage and torment her. Oh, and there was also my husband. He seemed to have this strange belief system that made him think chickens are better in a chicken coop rather than a dog crate. Whatever. He just could never see this chicken’s beauty.

I finally decided to try the chicken transplant. I placed Lola outside of the coop, in the dog crate, during the days. The other chickens could see her, but not get her. All things seemed to be progressing well. That is….things were progressing well, until the day I decided to put her in the coop.

The moment I dropped her in with the others, they began their attack. It was evident that these ladies had been plotting from the moment they laid eyes on my beautiful girl. She ran to me like a scared child. Of course, I scooped her up in my arms and back to the dog crate we went. It was like a remake of “Mean Girls,” with chickens in the starring roles, of course…so maybe “Mean Chicks” instead. Anyway.

Lola the loner Lola the Magnificent image4 225x300 — Lola the loner

Day after day, we went through the same motions. Lola and I against the world. I left her in a little longer one day, and within fifteen minutes, she was crying in the corner of the coop. Well, I think she was crying. Again, I can’t see her eyes, but I know she was VERY emotional over the ordeal. No amount of me yelling at the other chickens to “BE NICE!!!” seemed to make a difference. However, it did entertain my family for hours.

Then, we had another “Chicken Incident.” Somebody, who shall remain nameless (but does closely resemble my husband), accidentally left the chicken coop open at night. I have recreated the scene in my head, and here’s what I think happened. One of my younger chickens (she was extremely docile and playful), got out. She probably ran right up to a hawk or raccoon, all the while thinking she was setting up a play date. However, a chicken horror movie ensued.

And then there was Big Red, my Rhode Island Red, the leader of the coop. She, of course, went after the baby and couldn’t get back to the coop. I will tell you that there were moments that morning that I shed a hysterical tear. I love that girl. I started calling, ok screaming, her name after I noticed they were missing. Within a few minutes, she came running from the woods, bloody but safe. I hugged her like no chicken has even been hugged before!

Big Red Lola the Magnificent image3 225x300 — Big Red

While sad, this chicken coop shake-up seemed the perfect opportunity to put Lola in the coop. I held my breath, and let nature take its course. It was a bit rocky, but after a few hours, she seemed to be fitting in better. Once she survived her first night, I knew we were golden.

As of today, I have concluded that Lola has now risen to second-in-command. She plays Vice-President to Big Red’s unfailing leadership. So I guess beauty does have a place in this world, because, trust me when I say she is a little light on the “brain” side of the equation.

And for me, Lola’s successful integration only gave me more incentive to chicken shop. A few weeks later, I ordered four more chickens at about midnight, after a long day. I went with the story that I had no idea where the chickens came from. Very smart tactic. I instructed my girls that if my husband asked, the response was, “What extra chickens?!?” That went well.

I think that as I write this blog, he is finding a way to block my browser from Murray McMurray Chicken Hatchery. But he totally wasn’t thinking when he took me to the farm supply store last Saturday, and they were bringing in their first chick shipment for Spring. Surely, I can sneak back and slip in just a few. I really don’t think he’ll notice……

Hugs and Blessings Always,

LITTLE JEN IN THE BIG WOODS

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Burp.

categories: Dog Detour, Uncategorized

Where do I begin? Let’s try a quick game of “Categories.” I’ll list some items, and you tell me what they all have in common. Got it? Ready?

Go!

Carpet, popcorn, candy corn, candy pumpkins, loaf of bread, Glo stick, ribeye steak, eggs, more bread, a table leg, chicken food, fish food, cat food, a flip flop, another loaf of bread, apple crisp, cake, yet another flip flop, one more loaf of bread, three kitchen mats, too many cookies to count, pizza, one Bitty Baby foot and three tennis shoes….

Any guesses?

Did you say, “Things that you find at my house?”

Great guess! And partially correct.

Try, “Things that you WOULD HAVE found in my house IF my dog hadn’t eaten them.” Ding! Ding! Ding! You got it!

Look at that sweet face! Burp. image 300x225 — Look at that sweet face!

Almost nine months ago, I met one of the great loves of my life….Rosie, also known as Dogzilla. I fell in love the minute I saw her sweet little puppy face. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that she’s completely adorable. The first time I saw her, she had so much extra skin, which should have scared me, and these beautiful, expressive eyes. I just melted into a big puddle of goo.

And then she started to grow……and grow……and grow…..will it ever stop? Seriously. Will it? Her head is bigger than my head. Her paws are bigger than my hands. Seriously?!?!

We tried to buy her a bumblebee Halloween costume (I know, I know….embarrassing…but she could use a teeny bit of humility.) Turns out the “large” costume was not quite big enough for the belly. We tried to squeeze, but it was a “no go.” She will be a wonderful “extra-large” hotdog instead, with light-up mustard. She is unimpressed. In fact, she barked at the light-up mustard. And then ate it. Burp.

The dog who loved soccer! Burp. image1 169x300 — The dog who loved soccer!

She has caused multiple injuries to me. Ok, that’s unfair. I have caused multiple injuries to myself as a result of the giant dog in my life. I have fallen on my elbow on ice while trying to catch her, fallen on my elbow on a hardwood floor as she ran past me and knocked me off my feet, sustained a black eye when she jumped up to “kiss” me, and of course, my favorite….broken my foot when I smacked it on a doorframe, trying to keep the giant dog from eating a stolen chocolate cookie, because, as many of you know, dogs can’t have chocolate.

Of course, we are clearly not dealing with a “normal” dog here. This dog can eat pretty much anything and the only thing we hear from her is “burp.” No serious tummy aches, no crying or pain. Just “burp.”

I consider myself a pretty responsible pet owner. My cat, Jackson, lived a long, happy existence without incident. My other dog, Sallie, is now five years old and in perfect health, with no serious happenings to speak of. And then, there was Rosie.

A rare event...Rosie tired. Burp. image4 300x225 — A rare event…Rosie tired.

One day, I was doing laundry. I set an empty Tide Pod bucket by my feet as I was moving a load from the washer to the dryer. The giant puppy put her head in the bucket and got stuck. It was horrific. She thrashed around, trying to shake the bucket off of her head, banging into walls. I moved quickly, removing said bucket from the sweet puppy’s head.

Through the ordeal, however, she ingested a bit of Tide, and began tossing her precious cookies everywhere. We quickly bolted to the veterinarian’s office….the sweetest, most patient vet in the ENTIRE WORLD. She doctored Rosie up and sent her home in perfect condition. On a positive note, her burps were clean and fresh for a few hours, and she is still very healthy. Tide Pods are now completely secured at all times.

I took Rosie to doggie daycare today, which I have to do routinely to burn some of the energy. There was a nice man in the lobby, wrestling a huge German Shepherd. Strangely enough, my giant, maniac dog was sitting quietly, doing exactly what I told her to do. Weird, but true.

The man turned to me and said, “Wow, your puppy is so well-behaved!”

I glance behind me, and then realize he’s talking to me. Trust me, those aren’t the words I usually hear about Rosie. Typically, it’s, “Oh my gosh! Get your dog off of me!” as she hurls herself at people. She has a particular affinity for small people. Loves to knock them flat.

She really doesn't want me to go. Burp. image3 225x300 — She really doesn’t want me to go.

Anyway, I looked at the poor, weary man whose arms are covered in giant puppy bites and scratches and said, “It will get better. Those first six months are brutal. I haven’t had a serious injury for about six weeks now…..broken foot is almost healed.”

I really was trying to be encouraging, but somehow it just didn’t flow quite like I’d hoped. I decided to leave it with, “You’ll be in my prayers.” Even my dog looked at me like I was totally insane.

Dogs really are amazing animals. If you’ve never opened your heart to one….or two…..or more, you’re missing the most loyal friend you’ll ever have. They give you laughter when you think you can’t laugh anymore.

My giant baby Burp. image6 225x300 — My giant baby

They nurse you back to health when you’re sick. They are so incredibly excited to see you every single day, no matter what you’re wearing or how bad your day has been. They protect you, love you and give you their hearts completely.

So as hard as raising Rosie the giant dog seems some days, when she looks at me with those big, brown eyes, I’m toast. Every time. My hope is to be able to repay her with years of happy days and tons of love and smooches. Let’s just hope she stops growing……seriously…….

Hugs and Blessings Always,,

LITTLE JEN IN THE BIG WOODS

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For the love of Pete, QUIT RAISING YOUR HAND!!!

categories: Umm...no connection to anything

I have been struggling lately to keep my attention on one subject longer than 2.5 seconds. Ever had a day like that? Well, I’ve had a few months. Ok, years.

Did you just see that butterfly?

I’m sorry….what was I saying?

Yep, that about sums it up.

Sometimes I feel like this little bee...busy, busy, busy! For the love of Pete, QUIT RAISING YOUR HAND!!! busy busy busy 300x241 — Sometimes I feel like this little bee…busy, busy, busy!

I can barely form a cohesive, coherent thought so as to complete my daily tasks, much less put words down on my blog. I know, you probably haven’t missed me. But I have missed writing.

I could blame it on the fact that school has started, and the lazy days of summer are over. I could say it’s because we have so many family activities that I honestly can’t remember the last time we all just SAT DOWN together in the same room. I could blame it on the numerous animals in my life that contribute to the insanity.

In reality, it’s probably all those things, plus my inborn need to overcommit. I can’t say no. Ever. No, I mean….EVER. It’s bad.

In fact, lately, I have a hard time keeping my hand down in a room when somebody asks for volunteers to help. I can feel it creeping up, towards the free air. I have to slap it down with my other hand or sit on it to keep my volunteerism under control. Why do I hear people talking about things that need to be done and have the urge to scream, “I’LL DO IT!!!!” when I can’t even finish my own laundry?

Stop it already! For the love of Pete, QUIT RAISING YOUR HAND!!! raise your hand 300x199 — Stop it already!

I’ve decided it can all be summed up in one word: avoidance.

I wish I could say I believe it is about my altruistic self. While I like to think I am altruistic, I feel the sinking sensation that my brain hopes that if I keep moving on to new things, the old things will just disappear. Not so much. In fact, quite the opposite.

And therefore, I am making a pledge today to STOP VOLUNTEERING FOR EVERYTHING. I am going to stop raising my hand and adding more things to my list. I am determined. I have made a resolution: No more projects.

Wait….did I just hear someone say they need help with the school play? Wouldn’t that be a blast? I could just help a little….

Ok, so I’m incurable. I just can’t do it. Kudos to those of you who can. You are amazing prioritizers. Is “prioritizers” a word? I didn’t think so. But it just fit.

So here I go. I’m off to get some stuff done.

Yea, not really….I’m sitting here, sipping a Pumpkin Spice Latte, doing a little “people listening.” It’s one of my favorite things to do when I have about a million other things I should be doing. And while we’re on the topic, I have to ask…have you ever heard a voice come out of someone and thought, “that is totally not the right voice for her?” That just happened in my “people listening” session, and I’m trying not to be freaked out. Weird. Ok, I know. Random, again.

On a side note, in keeping with my new “randomness” theme, my next few posts are going to stray from the chickens a bit. I’m sad to say the chickens are not always the center of my life. Please don’t cry. I promise to throw them in here and there, because I seriously do continue to learn something from them daily.

I’m also doing away with the “Chapter ….” blog title thing I started. It seemed clever at the time, but it’s WEARING ME OUT. And when things wear me out, I stop them (a little trick I’ve learn with age).

Hang with me. It makes me smile when I hear people say they like my blog. Writing is hard for me. I wish it was easy, but I’m a perfectionist. I want it to be “just right.” And therefore, it is a painstaking process. For those of you who have given me kind words, I can’t express how much I appreciate you. Thank you.

Yes, she eats everything! For the love of Pete, QUIT RAISING YOUR HAND!!! image9 169x300 — Yes, she eats everything!

And now….stay tuned for my upcoming posts, including “The Dog Who Ate Everything.” It promises to be a blockbuster…..

Hugs and blessings always,

LITTLE JEN in the BIG WOODS

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Chapter 8.5: To be Real

categories: Umm...no connection to anything

“Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.’

The Velveteen Rabbit real Chapter 8.5: To be Real velveteen rabbit anxious times 230x300 — The Velveteen Rabbit

“Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

― Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

Words to live by.

I remember hearing the story when I was little, and then hearing it again later in life when I better understood the meaning. It’s hard to get old. The “beautiful” circle of life is not so beautiful when it applies to our bodies. In fact, it can be just plain ugly.

Really Barbie?!? We can't all be perfect. real Chapter 8.5: To be Real barbie supermodel 225x300 — Really Barbie?!? We can’t all be perfect.

Because I have little girls, I find myself always dealing with the drama surrounding body image. It’s pathetic, but girls start worrying about being overweight and looking old at such a young age. My youngest started worrying about her weight at age 7. Oh my goodness.

The pressure at school between girlfriends can just be brutal. My daughter told me about a game where the girls sit down so they can see how big their thighs look when they expand under the pressure of the seat. Of course, then they compare to see whose leg is the biggest. Really?!?

We talk at home about the importance of becoming strong and healthy, but I worry constantly about peer pressure, teasing, and of course, our wonderful media’s image of the “perfect woman.” It’s so easy to distort a girl’s sense of reality, and therefore, create in her mind a sense of something that cannot be achieved. While perfect people are not real, eating disorders are. And they’re scary…sometimes a point of no return.

But beyond that, what woman wants to be defined by their physical appearance? I am not satisfied to be remembered only by how I look in a little black dress. I want more. I want people to listen to me, to laugh with me, to love me for the things inside that can’t be seen.

It’s hard for little ones to grasp this concept, but they do learn from you….how you react to being photographed (which is horrifying to many women), how often you talk about being “fat” or unattractive, or how frequently you criticize other women or celebrities for not looking perfect. It all sinks into those sweet little minds.

Beautiful lady. real Chapter 8.5: To be Real beautiful old lady from darapsikkim village 300x238 — Beautiful lady.

I think it’s interesting that the people I have loved and respected most in my life have ceased to be defined in my mind as a physical image. Instead, when I talk to them or remember them, my image is an emotion….a happy, warm feeling that isn’t bound by any physical quality. There’s no fat or skinny, tall or short, color, race or age. Just beauty. In fact, sometimes I struggle to get a mental image for loved ones who have passed away. But I never struggle to feel my love for them.

Please keep an eye on the young ladies in your life. They are so easy to influence. Trust me, I know from experience. There’s nothing wrong with looking great, but don’t let them see you make it the focus of your world. It is an uphill battle. Instead, help them feel strong, healthy, confident, loved….Real.

Yes, you are! real Chapter 8.5: To be Real beautiful 225x300 — Yes, you are!

And to all you already “real” people out there…..cheers to you. You are awesome. The world would be a better place if everyone was more like you.

So keep it real, people.

Hugs and blessings always,

LITTLE JEN in the BIG WOODS

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Chapter 8: The Case of the Egg-Eating Chicken

categories: Chicken Diaries

On the list of things I never thought could happen when raising chickens, the number one spot goes to…..drumroll, please….yep, you guessed it….a chicken who eats her own eggs!

“That’s crazy!” you say. To which I say, “Yes, yes it is.” But worse than crazy, it was a bit unexpected for me. And any of you who know me know that “unexpected” is not my forte.

A very large chicken egg Chapter 8: The Case of the Egg-Eating Chicken beautifull big cockerel 300x271 — A very large chicken

At first, I thought it was just an accident. As I give them a few treats everyday (ok, more than a few…but they always act so darn hungry), I thought maybe one of the ladies had overindulged and surpassed the egg-sitting weight limit. (As a side question: Is there an egg-sitting weight limit?)

I felt bad for her and discretely tossed the cracked egg aside, so as not to embarrass her in front of her friends. I mean, chickens have feelings, too.

But then, a couple of days later, I found ANOTHER broken egg. Soon it became evident that it was a pattern and a problem. And I had no idea whatsoever how to solve it. My husband was a ton of help. Our conversation went something like this…..

Me: I think we have an egg-eating chicken.

Him: Ok, we should just kill the chicken that’s doing it.

Me (horrified face): YOU WOULD KILL ONE OF MY CHICKENS?!?

Him: Well, yea. That’s probably the only thing you can do once it’s a pattern.

Me: But she’s not hurting anyone!!!! I will find another solution!

And then the conversation ended as many of ours do regarding the chickens….he shook his head, smiled and walked away. That’s the sign of a good husband, by the way.

So how do you stop a chicken from eating eggs? Well, that’s a great question. And, as

I can tell this guy is fed up with egg-eating chickens! egg Chapter 8: The Case of the Egg-Eating Chicken cute and tasty 300x199 — I can tell this guy is fed up with egg-eating chickens!

usual, there are many suggestions. And most of them are just plain nutty. I, however, am willing to look like a total fool over and over again just to prove it can be done. Because that’s the kind of girl I am. If there were a test for stubborn, I would score in the genius range. Oh that doesn’t mean I’m smart, just incredibly pig-headed. So here’s where the fun began…..

Suggestion 1: Give your chickens milk.

Outcome 1: Chickens love milk. But then again, CHICKENS LOVE

Delicious milk egg Chapter 8: The Case of the Egg-Eating Chicken milk sculptures 300x199 — Delicious milk

EVERYTHING! Seriously, try to feed them straight buttermilk (blech), and they will love you forever. I get that they may be lacking calcium and milk would help, but in my case, it did not.

Golf ball pretending to be an egg...a common thing in chicken farming egg Chapter 8: The Case of the Egg-Eating Chicken integration 300x124 — Golf ball pretending to be an egg…a common thing in chicken farming

Suggestion 2: Put a couple of golf balls in the laying boxes so they will try to peck them. When they experience the fact that the golf balls can’t be broken, they will be cured.

Outcome 2: Not so much. I know chickens are not smart, but I think they are on to me with the old golf ball trick. The only thing that happens is the golf balls end up covered in poop. Ick.

Suggestion 3: Remove the insides of an egg through a pinhole, and

Not gonna happen egg Chapter 8: The Case of the Egg-Eating Chicken blow out raw egg for easter april 24 20115 300x200 — Not gonna happen

then insert mustard into the egg. Place it back in the nest and wait for the fun. Apparently, chickens hate mustard. But I’m skeptical.

Outcome 3: Ok, if you really think I could get the egg’s insides out through a PINHOLE, you’ve got as many issues as an egg-eating chicken. No way could I accomplish this.

Finally, I found the voice of reason on the internet. Her blog is “The Chicken Chick,” and unlike me, she really is a chicken expert. She had some pretty simple ideas regarding diet, egg collection times, and identifying the guilty party. I will begin to work down her list of suggestions and report back when something works.

In her words, “Egg eating need not be cause for culling a chicken from a backyard flock. With some minor coop revisions and changes in routine, even the most avid egg connoisseur can be rehabilitated.”

Yummers egg Chapter 8: The Case of the Egg-Eating Chicken original chicken 300x225 — Yummers

So hear that, all you chicken giver-uppers. We will prevail. But seriously, in the likely event we don’t, I will never, ever, never reveal the culprit I uncover. Just in case my husband is lurking around the coop with fried chicken on the brain…

Hugs and blessings always,

LITTLE JEN in the BIG WOODS

photos by: & , , , , ,

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Chapter 7.5: Let’s get this garden started

categories: Gardening like my Grandma

One of my favorite places as a child was the garden, with my grandma. She had a massive piece of land dedicated to growing everything from turnips to strawberries, in addition to multiple fruit trees.

Needless to say, my grandmother grew up living primarily from the land, as they had little money. I spent many hours with her, learning how to grow fruits and veggies and then preserve them. I’d love to share some of what I’ve learned with you. So my post today is dedicated to growing tomatoes.

Me and my Muck boots, getting ready to plant tomatoes garden Chapter 7.5: Let’s get this garden started image4 e1406268090344 225x300 — Me and my Muck boots, getting ready to plant tomatoes

I love garden tomatoes. Honestly, when summer comes to mind, one of the first things I think about is a nice, juicy tomato, fresh from the garden. It’s nothing like its store-bought cousin. My grandma calls those bought in the grocery store “hot-house tomatoes.” They are grown in an artificial environment and picked when they are still green, as they will be transported all over the country to sell. They will ripen in transport, and therefore, get all mushy and flavorless.

A REAL tomato takes weeks to grow and then ripen slowly and carefully in the sun. When it’s done, it is a thing of beauty. I like to slice one, drizzle it with a little olive oil, balsamic vinegar, add a some fresh garlic and a slice of fresh mozzarella. Oh my goodness. It’s my favorite summer treat.

A thing of beauty garden Chapter 7.5: Let’s get this garden started tomato 300x225 — A thing of beauty

So let’s talk about growing them. Tomatoes are pretty easy. I say this after strangely cold weather and my giant labrador puppy destroyed a large number of my tomato starts this season.

This year, instead of doing what I do every other year which is run to Wal-Mart and buy the biggest plants I can find, I decided to be adventurous and go the “heirloom route.” I used Baker Heirloom Seeds, and did all my shopping online. I chose heirloom seeds as I prefer to think of them as originals….not genetically modified.

The tomato varieties I chose were Basrawya, Brandywine, Solar Flair, Glacier and A Grappoli D’Inverno. I thought I was up for the challenge, but I will tell you…heirloom varieties require attention. It’s not gardening for the faint-of-heart. But the rewards are great.

I started my seeds in my gardening room. I use small cardboard pots that you can get at any store with gardening supplies. You can make your own, but I have not attempted this yet. I figure it is just pushing my luck to go all-out DIY. I know my limits.

I fill the small containers with garden mix, which is a soil mix that is optimal for starting seeds. I add 1-2 seeds to each container, and then I place all my pots in a damp, dark place until they germinate.

Once the seeds are sprouting from the pots (usually about a week but can be sooner), I take them to a warm, sunny spot and water them regularly. You want to make sure you pots are able to drain nicely so you don’t get too much water in them.

You will see them grow big and strong over the next few weeks. As I prepare to transplant them in my garden, I actually sit them outside for periods of time. This process is called “hardening off” the plants by exposing them to real sunlight, wind, rain, and cool evenings.

My tomato plants typically go in my raised beds, although I have some in the ground that are doing just as well. My raised beds provide a more controlled environment. I can put down newspapers, which serve as weed paper. They are environment-friendly and inexpensive and frankly work better than any weed paper I’ve ever used.

I do use a very rich, fertile soil mix for my tomatoes and I use some Miracle Grow when I plant the starts, just to boost fertilization and avoid some shock to the plant as it is transplanted. This year all my starts were successful when I transplanted. I think I deserve some kind of reward!

I plant tomatoes about 2-3 feet apart. They seem small when you put them in but trust me, they will grow quickly and you want each plant to have room. I place the newspapers in the beds, cover them with a bit more dirt, and then dig holes for my tomatoes.

When you place the plant in the hole, if you are concerned that it might have an inconsistent water supply, you can actually lay the root sideways in the hole, and then bend the stem upward as you plant it. This method will allow the roots to receive moisture closer to the surface and can help in dry conditions. Just be careful and you bend. The plants are pretty soft so it’s not difficult, but it would be a bummer to snap one in half….I say from experience.

After all are planted, I make sure adequate dirt is spread on the surface, and then I top the bed with mulch, which helps deter weeds and preserves moisture.

And now….it’s time to wait…..and wait….and wait. If temperatures are hot and your plants get an adequate water supply, they will grow like crazy. If not, growth will be slower. Don’t be discouraged, it is all in Mother Nature’s hands at this point. There is very little you can do besides a rain dance and a prayer.

As the plants begin to get bigger and stronger, you will need to have them in tomato cages to protect the delicate branches from snapping under the weight of the fruit. I actually place cages right after I plant them.

Another trick I learned from my grandmother is that you should always remove the “suckers” from the plant. Suckers are little branches that start to form between the main branches of the tomato plant. She always told me that the more suckers you allow to pull away from the main plant, the smaller and weaker your fruit will be.

Suckers garden Chapter 7.5: Let’s get this garden started image1 300x225 — Suckers

So that’s my tomato planting instruction guide. Of course, as you begin to see your plants grow, you will deal with diseases, bugs, and all those fun things that want to destroy your tomatoes. There are millions of organic solutions on Pinterest. I have used some of them with success. There are also non-organic solutions at your local gardening store. You just have to follow your heart here and do what you can live with. I asked my husband to pee around the perimeter of the garden at one point to keep the deer away. Deer are my garden enemies. He gave me “the look” and sent me to Orscheln’s to buy some deer repellant.

The reward! garden Chapter 7.5: Let’s get this garden started image 300x225 — The reward!

I hope you try tomato gardening if you never have. I had my first harvest tonight, and the tomatoes I sliced for dinner were incredible….the taste of summer.

Giant pumpkin leaves: let's home the pumpkins follow. garden Chapter 7.5: Let’s get this garden started image5 225x300 — Giant pumpkin leaves: let’s hope the giant pumpkins follow.

P.S. I am also working hard on the giant pumpkin, as promised. I have a couple of hopefuls. My plants are ginormous so hopefully, the pumpkins that follow will also be ginormous. Crossing my fingers.

Hugs and blessings always,

LITTLE JEN in the BIG WOODS

photos by: & ,

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Chapter 7: All I want for Christmas is….an EGG?!?

categories: Chicken Diaries

Once the chickens begin to look like chickens and not cute, fluffy babies, you begin to wonder, “When will my chickens start laying eggs?” There is a super-simple answer to that question: When they get darn good and ready (and not a minute before).

Chicken selfie egg Chapter 7: All I want for Christmas is….an EGG?!? image3 225x300 — Chicken selfie

My research told me that the girls should starting laying between 6-8 months. Well, 6-8 months came and went, and there was nothing……….notta. Every day I headed out to the coop, anticipating a beautiful egg. And every day I found the same thing: the golf ball I had placed in the laying box to give the chickens a brilliant idea. Apparently, they didn’t agree.

I did more research. I followed every suggestion you can imagine, including placing lavender potpourri in the laying boxes. Yes, I really did. I read that the chickens need aromatherapy to relax enough to pop out an egg. My family thought I was losing it. The coop smelled nice for about 3.5 seconds. And then someone pooped…again.

So, I did what every farming book tells you not to do…I gave up. I was determined to just be happy with my sweet little friends. I was a chicken farmer whose destiny did not include eggs, except at the grocery store. I’ll have to admit, I was deep into thoughts of what the chickens would taste like on the grill when….yes….you guessed it…..I got AN EGG!!!!!

Beautiful eggs egg Chapter 7: All I want for Christmas is….an EGG?!? image4 225x300 — Beautiful eggs

I honestly can’t even remember being as excited on Christmas morning as a child. As I’ve said before, I’m a little pathetic. There is, however, a huge satisfaction that comes from growing something you eat. You know where everything originated that went into the production of the food. It just feels amazing. However, one egg does not a dozen make. Oh, and it was a rubber egg. I mean, it actually had no shell. Eww.

Turns out that sometimes the first eggs can be without a shell if the chicken’s reproductive organs haven’t quite matured yet. It took that chicken about four eggs until it all came out correctly. They are actually fine to eat, I tried the ones that made it from the coop to the house without getting squished.

It seemed that after the first chicken started laying, they all began to catch on. From four chickens, I was getting between two and four eggs per day. I had no more rubber eggs, but my other chickens laid teeny, tiny eggs for a while. It’s like anything, I suppose. It takes a bit to get it all together.

In retrospect, there was only one reliable sign that egg laying was going to happen in the near future. My chickens started doing this really weird squatting thing every time I started to pet them. (Yes, I pet my chickens. I also hug them. They absolutely hate it, but somehow it is meaningful to me. Once again, pathetic.) This squatting is, apparently, the mating position for the rooster. I know…too much information. But it was a few days after they started doing this weird thing that I got eggs.

So the moral of the story is: Hug your chickens today!

I couldn't help myself. egg Chapter 7: All I want for Christmas is….an EGG?!? image2 225x300 — I couldn’t help myself.

Ok…actually, the moral of the story is: Don’t rush nature. It will do its own thing on its own sweet timeline. To quote a very reliable source, “To every season, there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the Heaven…” (Ecclesiastes 3:1). Probably a little deep for the chickens, but great guidance for the rest of us.

Hugs and blessings always,

LITTLE JEN in the BIG WOODS

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Chapter 6.5: My “good stuff” list

categories: Umm...no connection to anything

My good friend came up with a brilliant game for a birthday party. Instead of bringing your same old go-to gift for a friend’s birthday, she asked us to bring the five things we couldn’t live without for the birthday girl. I loved the idea immediately. I learned about some really cool stuff I want to try from the other ladies.

But afterwards, the exercise has kept me thinking. Every time I pick up a product, I think, “Would this be on my list?” So I decided to blog it out and actually put my thoughts into

Everybody's favorite listmaker list Chapter 6.5: My “good stuff” list when will santas list be digital 300x187 — Everybody’s favorite list maker

words. The list I’ve compiled does exclude the obvious, God and family. Those are above all else, and I could handle losing all of the items on the list, as long as I have them. So here goes. These are in no order of priority, and trust me, the list is a bit random….just like my thoughts.

1. Books: It’s hard to imagine a life without books. From such a young age, I was transported to different times, exotic lands…all in the pages of a book. I am in awe (I’m doing a little curtsy for them right now) of those who can write with such talent that we see the world through their eyes. Love books. Love to read. Not always so excited when the

Books are amazing. list Chapter 6.5: My “good stuff” list book collection 300x175 — Books are amazing.

movie gets made. Some really good material has been ruined on the big screen. There are a few exceptions, but for the most part, reading a book and letting your imagination take over is the way to do it.

2. Gardening: I just can’t explain the difference between fresh garden veggies vs veggies you buy in a store, if you’ve never tasted both. It’s like comparing the ant hill in my backyard to Mt. Everest….or the mud puddle in the driveway to the ocean. I would wade through dirt, weeds, bugs and snakes (and I hate all of the aforementioned) to grow my own vegetables

Pick a garden tomato over a store-bought tomato every day. list Chapter 6.5: My “good stuff” list tomatoes 300x231 — Pick a garden tomato over a store-bought tomato every day.

and enjoy them all year long. If you’ve never tried gardening, get on it right now. You can even do it in a pot on your back porch, and you won’t be sorry.

3. Coffee: Let me put it this way….I am not, in any way, a morning person. It’s bad to talk to me before 10 a.m. In fact, it’s just plain ugly. Thank goodness for coffee. It makes me tolerable. Please, for your own safety, don’t visit me in the morning without coffee.

4. Running: My volleyball coach recommended that team members run track in the spring to stay fit and develop endurance. I think I honestly hated it the first season. It was hard and at times, downright painful. My coach told me that running would be a sport I could carry with me for the rest of my life. It didn’t mean as much to me then as it does now, many years later. In fact, at the time all I could think was, “Please don’t vomit…please don’t vomit.” Running, in my opinion, is 20 percent physical and 80 percent mental. It takes incredible mental stamina stick to it. But the benefits are really, really worth it….confidence, health, fitness, meditation. I have learned an incredible number of life lessons through running. And I don’t

You don't have to be an Olympic athlete to run. list Chapter 6.5: My “good stuff” list runner 300x200 — You don’t have to be an Olympic athlete to run.

plan to stop until age forces me to.

5. Pets: I can’t imagine how cranky I would be without my animals. It’s amazing to me that people survive one single day without a pet. They love you when nobody else does, snuggle with you when you are sick or sad (no, I don’t snuggle with the chickens…but I do love them), and make you smile when you just don’t feel like it. My pets have been with me through some tough times, and no matter how bad my day seemed, there was always a loving friend waiting for me at the end.

6. Bath time at bedtime: I am an extremely active person. I mean, I actually don’t sit down during the day, unless I’m forced to for a meeting, and then it’s like I have ants in my pants. I remember saying to my mom when I was little, “Mom, can’t you seriously just sit down for two minutes and watch this with me?” Well…no, apparently she couldn’t. And neither can I. So when I get to the end of the day, my mind is buzzing, and my body is sore. A nice, hot bath with Epson salt (yes, I know….sounds like something an old person would say) will do wonders for a night of rest. I soak every night. The salts actually take the soreness away, and I feel like a new woman the next morning.

7. Really, really, really good shoes: All you cute little cuties out there in your cute shoes, listen up. Once in a while, take a break from those cute high heels and wear some good,

Very, very bad idea list Chapter 6.5: My “good stuff” list philip garner high heel roller skate 259x300 — Very, very bad idea

supportive shoes. You don’t have to do it every day, but do it occasionally. I have been fighting a double heel spur from my years in the corporate world, trying to look tall and cute. It’s been six months, and after about twelve VERY PAINFUL cortizone shots in the most vulnerable part of the foot, I still have pain every single day. Save yourselves!!! I call it “body Karma.” The bad things you do to your body in your twenties will come back to you times one thousand in your forties. So if you drink heavily, chain smoke, wear no sunscreen, bask in the tanning beds, ignore exercise, eat terribly and wear super-duper high heels (ok, ok, the heels aren’t as bad as the other stuff), enjoy your thirties ’cause it’s all downhill from there.

8. Lipstick: If I’m ever stranded on a deserted island, I need only one survival tool….lipstick. It’s not a particularly useful tool. No, I don’t know any survival tricks with lipstick. I just like the fact that I don’t look like a corpse when I wear it. If you ever see me without a tube of lipstick, take me to the ER, because something is terribly wrong.

9. Laughter: When I was younger, it was difficult for me to laugh at myself. As I reflect, I realize I was pretty uptight….total perfectionist. But with age comes wisdom. And with wisdom comes learning that you can and should laugh at yourself. Life is funny. Enjoy it. People love being around you way more when you’re not trying to act perfect all the time. We all have flaws. Embrace those flaws. Learn from them, and laugh at them. They are the very things that make you unique and very often, they will eventually define you. Life is about making mistakes. It’s how you pick up and move on from those mistakes that’s important.

Let your laughter shine. list Chapter 6.5: My “good stuff” list laughter 300x200 — Let your laughter shine.

10. Good friends: Last but certainly not least, I love to surround myself with good friends. I have learned what friends are not, and that has helped me understand the handful of people who truly fit into this category. Friends don’t make you feel bad about yourself, they don’t talk about you behind your back, they don’t say mean things to you, and they don’t judge you. Ever. They have a positive effect on your life and make you want to be a better person. They are your greatest cheerleaders, and they never try to compete with you. They love you 50 pounds overweight, in sweat pants and when you’ve just made a huge mistake. I had lunch with one of those special people today, and I gave her the analogy of a strainer when you are draining pasta. When times are good, everyone wants to be your friend. But when things are tough, it’s like pouring spaghetti from the pot to the strainer. Everything falls through except the good stuff. And that’s the stuff you want to hang onto for dear life.

And that, my friends, is my list. I apologize. It’s long, but it’s been a blast to write. Every English teacher I’ve ever had is screaming, “For the love of God, STOP WRITING!” So I’ll stop now. But I would love, love, love to hear your lists, too.

Hugs and blessings always,

LITTLE JEN in the BIG WOODS

photos by: kevin dooley & Ian Wilson, Ajith_chatie, mueritz, adrigu, Agianda

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