Smart Move, Cat

I've got to admit, when my cat dreams, she dreams BIG. That blob to the right of the picture is Whisk. Crouching under the trees that hold my bird feeders is a favorite hang out for her. She hasn't quite figured out if she stays there the birds will not come. But no matter, she lies there, patiently in wait of some unsuspecting little birdie that never shows up. I think now she just goes there out of force of habit more than anything else.

So there she was, reposing under the tree, half asleep wondering where all the birds were when the two wild geese returned! They wandered unconcerned around the bird feeders, gobbling up any errant seed left behind by the squabbling birds. Well, as far as Whisk was concerned, this was a gift from the gods! So she stalked and crouched and whipped her tail back an forth as she waited for the perfect opportunity to spring on her unsuspecting prey. She waited for close to an hour. Then she changed her mind and walked away, offhandedly as if it really didn't matter. She must of thought better of trying to pouncing on something that was at least twice as big as her. Though I'm pretty sure she'd never admit it.

View from the Porch, 7:20 A.M.

Almost 7:30 in the morning and sunrise isn't even thinking of breaking. Not so long ago the sun was greeting me at 5...A.M....in the morning.

But today is the Winter Solstice, shortest day of the year. I know a lot of people think this is wonderful because the days will start getting longer and the worst is over. But I know the coldest weather is yet to come and I won't notice the lengthening days for another month or so, I'm sure. It's like the Summer Solstice, the days start getting shorter but no-one notices and the sun is really just starting to warm up.

But never mind. Winter Solstice has a charm and a comfort all its own. It is a holiday of little fanfare and even smaller commercialism, and that's the way I like 'em!

Christmas Goats

She sat on Santa's lap and mugged for the camera as prodded by her mama. After the picture was taken Santa asked her what she wanted for Christmas.

"A goat," she said as her blue eyes sparkled in the reflection of the tinsel. "A little grey goat with white, floppy ears." A little goat who is so happy he's gotta bounce. "

After the little girl left with a shy smile and a wave. Santa mused to himself. "A goat. What an unusual request."

Not really, Santa; not at all. Click here

Turkey Behavior or How I'm Loosing Faith in Books

Turkeys are seasonal layers. That means they lay in the Spring/Summer. I know this because the books and goodness knows how many websites tells me so. So how does the books explain this picture? In short, they don't. The four top eggs in the basket are turkey eggs. The other three are various chicken eggs. I put them in so the difference in turkey eggs is more obvious. Turkey eggs are off-white and speckled. They're also much pointier on one end.

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I really don't know why my turkeys are laying now. I phoned a turkey lady I know and she is clueless as well. But she did say she was impressed that I was getting eggs from my turkeys. I don't know if I'm all that impressed, I think I'm more worried. Is it good for turkeys to lay off-season? Does it hurt them? Does it make them weaker? Will they lay in season? The turkey lady hazard a guess that they may be laying because I have lights in the coop. But other than that, she had no other information.

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Poking around the Internet did get me some interesting heritage turkey facts. Did you know heritage turkeys lack the broad-breast gene that all commercial turkeys have? And that has something to do with why heritage turkeys can breed naturally while commercial turkeys can't. I'm not quite sure, though, how those two things get connected.

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I am going to keep looking and see what I can find out. For the time being, I'm hoping the turkeys are ok and are not hurting themselves laying. May-be they're just confused...like me.

Late Hatch

Last September, Caribou, a Buff Orpington hen decided to go broody. ~Incidentally, just in case you're wondering, I don't name all my chickens! With thirty plus birds and some of them almost identical it would be impossible. But when one stands out with a certain feature or personality, a name invariably pops into my head and the chicken is christened. Caribou came by her name because her comb was missing a couple of spikes, nothing happened to her, she hatched that way. Anyhow the resulting comb looks like the antler on a caribou and so she was named.~

I thought Caribou's timing was a bit off. September is not a great time for little chicks but she was not going to get off that nest for love, money or chicken feed so I put her in a broody area with ten eggs. While the time for raising chicks was not good, the timing to extend her lifespan was impeccable. Caribou was destined for the freezer with all the other year and a half old hens. So she dodged that bullet (or axe, whatever the case may be).

On October 14, nine of the eggs hatched. I was pretty impressed with the hatch rate, especially when I considered some of the frosty nights Caribou had to keep those eggs warm through. All nine thrived, I didn't loose one. Cariboo is an excellent mother, and this was her first time at it. Gotta love a Buff Orpington's natural instinct! The chicks are about nine weeks old now and the cockerels are trying to crow and end up strangling on the noise. I put Caribou back in the main coop and she seems be doing just fine. Sometimes I find her on top of a straw bale looking at her chicks but she doesn't seem upset that she's not with them.

So my first fall hatch turned out very well, I think. When it comes time for broodiness, the hens know much more about it and I think I'm going to trust their judgement.

Roosting just like big chickens!

Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop

There's no snow but the trees are bare. The temperature is in the single digits (C) but not to the freezing point. The squirrels scamper through the yard with their cheeks bulging but the call of the Canadian Geese are silenced, they have packed up and headed south. The colours are washed out, like a favorite pair of jeans that you hang on to even though they are thin and ragged. Winter's coming, he's just dawdling. It's not like Winter to be so sneaky. I suppose he's having way too much fun in other parts of the country to make his way here yet.

New Turkey

As it turns out, my two turkeys are both females. I really wanted a trio because I'm hoping to raise turkeys for the freezer next spring. So I contacted the lady who gave me the turkey eggs. I knew she raised them to sell at Christmas time. I asked her if she would sell me a tom just not butchered, I needed it live. She was happy to oblige me and so now I have my trio of Beltsville Small White Turkeys. I had no idea what to call them. P, teenage son, came up with Snap, Crackle and Pop. That works well.

Introductions were a little difficult. I had the tom separated for a week or so. He could see everybody and everybody could see him. I was hoping that they'd get familiar and comfortable with each other so there wouldn't be any problems. False hope on my part. I put him in the main coop. The chickens couldn't have cared less. The smaller turkey was fine with him. The larger hen was not. She went over and started yanking on his wattle with her beak. So I separated him back to his quarantine area. Then I decided to put the hens with him so there wouldn't be the territorial thing going on. That worked much better. She grabbed him by the wattle, he grabbed hers then they both quit it. In five minutes everybody were buddies. After a few days, I put the three turkeys back in the main coop with no problems at all.

I think the world would be a better place if its leaders had to pull each others' wattles for five minutes and then decide whether the argument was really worth the effort.

Pop showing off!