Farm life is cyclical, filled with ups and downs. Some are planned, others take us by surprise. And some weeks are more of a roller coaster than others.
We recently said goodbye to our two sheep. Per Bryon’s usual method, this was a fully researched process. From his conversations with the breeder and our neighbor who provided a butchering tutorial to reading and watching procedural videos, Bryon had a fairly good idea what to expect. He wrote about the first final step in our last journal entry. A few days later, he filled our freezer with quality meat that we have already enjoyed in several preparations.
The leg of lamb and all veggies, herbs, and marigolds were grown on the farm
The same day he processed one of the sheep, we saw our hopefully final Muscovy hatch for the summer. (Knock on wood— those birds are nothing if not determined). Louise was our first “muffler” to make a nest this year, but she did not have a successful hatching. After four other mamas did their thing, Weezie disappeared into the trees and ivy again. Lo and behold, she marched out on a Thursday afternoon with 13 babies. 13! This moment of new life was expected but not planned. We already had 12 other mini muffins (baby mufflers) and didn’t really need or want more. But Louise’s nest was so far into the undergrowth, there was no stopping her from sitting. Even though it adds to the work load and feed costs, it’s hard not to smile when watching the mama protect her adorable little ones.
Louise and her little ones
Cut to the very next morning. I went out to check for eggs in Flock B — our most recent hatchery birds (like Leghorns, Polish, and Cream Legbar) and some that we incubated ourselves. One of the few roosters, a handsome Ancona mix who just started crowing a few weeks ago, was lifeless on the ground, likely attacked by a raven. I texted Bryon the terrible news, since he was busy with the second sheep. Then I grabbed a plastic bag to remove the carcass, my shoulders sagging with the weight of regret. In my mind, I saw the roo protecting his hens with his very last breath.**
Interspersed among those events, I have been trying to grow the food that sustains life: our own and also that of our animals. I’ve been crawling around the garden and through the field rows caring for plants. Weeding, pruning, killing cucumber beetles, spraying neem oil, checking impatiently for fruit. One day before I added straw to our small plot of corn, I accidentally killed a few plants with my overzealous hoeing. And Bryon would be quick to tell you I’ve often overseen a vigorous weeding session that destroyed a bit of irrigation.
Amelia: the chicken who goes wherever she wants
But I guess it’s like that with farming and with life: you win some, you lose some, shaking your fists at the sky. You give it your all and gratefully accept whatever you get in return.
**After I wrote this post, two eagles began picking off several more chickens. Including our sweet Polish rooster, Ronnie. 😞
