Goodbye pigs, on with life!

Well, the reality is actually not as difficult to cope with as the IMAGINARY reality was, before the pigs were loaded up and taken away.  Anticipation of a loss can be much worse than the actual loss turns out to be.  And it may not even turn out to be a loss, after all of that emotional turmoil.

They sure did squeal, and balk, and try to escape under the trailer.....and then they trotted right in and munched their apples as the door was closed behind them.  By taking them today, instead of yesterday, we spared them a night with countless other displaced and confused pigs.  One more good deed for the pigs that we cared for all summer.

I cried a bit yesterday after typing my "fond farewell" message.  I think I caused some of you to cry a bit, too.  I needed to get my emotions out, and I probably typed out some stuff about the pigs that were heart-wrenching to others in the reading-audience, too.  Thanks for crying along with me.

And now, just hours after they left, the pen is NOT empty, like I expected.  The chickens have been pecking in the left-over straw and litter since the morning, when we left the gate open.  The sheep have moved in and are lounging in the vacated pig-shelter that Michael built.  It's the perfect size for them.  It's shaded and cool.  They can stand and turn around, it's cozy, and would be warm if it were a cold day.  Life goes on.

This morning, I knew I would be fine when the pigs were being trucked away and I turned to look at the empty pen.  It wasn't actually empty, even then.  There, in the corner of the dirt, under the corner of the shelter, was evidence that a rat had moved in and taken up residence.  No wonder the dogs couldn't leave the pig-pen alone for the past 3 mornings or so.  I thought they were after the pigs, but they had done their rat-duty yet again and pinpointed where one was snugly hidden away in safety.

Tomorrow, before sheep and birds are let out of the barn, the dogs will finally get to dig out the rat that thought he could get fat on leftover bits of pig feed.  And then the chickens will peck and scratch in the leftover litter again.  And the sheep will enjoy the shelter where their friends so recently slept.  

And life will go on, as we bring home the neatly wrapped packages of pork which will become our family's winter dining extravaganza......and so many of you reading this will enjoy that same delicacy.  

LIFE goes on, thanks to our gracious God.  :)

 

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

The tail end of pigs-in-the-barnyard

Photos:  Little Pig One and Little Pig Two, new to the farm in May 2013

and Big Pig One and Big Pig Two, a fond farewell

Please bear with me as I work through thoughts about the pigs.  They meet their fate tomorrow, at a local butchering facility, transported by the farmer who hired Michael back in May to work in exchange for two tiny piglets.  Little did we know what we were getting ourselves into.

Tomorrow might be more traumatic than sending our first flock of rowdy roosters to butchering-day.....

It could be more emotional than loading Lucy (the Dutch Belted heifer) into someone else's trailer.....

Maybe more disturbing than (fill in the blank).....

And maybe not.

Any number of things out here in farm-land could be traumatic, disturbing, alarming, especially when lives are on the line.  A chicken hatches duck eggs, and then pecks the little darlings to death when they aren't the baby chicks she expected.  A favorite barn cat gets hit on the road (hasn't happened to ours, but it will).  A coon or weasel gets into the chicken coop and demolishes every living thing inside (not yet, but it will happen).  A cow or sheep gets into the grain and eats so much that they are dead by the time you find them (almost happened with the sheep this past summer!)  Or, you raise a calf, or a pig, or rabbits, knowing that they will be destined for the freezer, even though you've never actually had to do experience "that" before.....  It's easy to see why society LOVES shopping at the grocery store!  It's all neatly packaged, no manure, no emotions involved in the life of the animals, no sweat necessary to grow the produce, just pull into a parking space, wheel a cart through the store, and come home with food for your family.  Easy, and painless.

Back to my thought-process:

We are so new to this, that some things that are common-place on a farm are still an emotional rollercoaster for us/me.

From the time that the Pig One and Pig Two had their reproductive capabilities removed (tactfully stated, I hope), they were destined to be someone's dinner.  It doesn't matter that they are funny, engaging, curious, affectionate, or well-taken-care-of.  It doesn't matter that we have come to like them and their silly antics and their personalities.  The plan was in place before they came to live here, before they worked their porky way into our daily routines, before they ate over $300 worth of feed EACH over the course of less than 6 months.  They WILL be someone's dinner, and an expensive dinner, at that.  The alternative?  These 300 pound porkers will continue to grow, continue to eat, and will eventually bankrupt us (that's an exaggeration, but not much of one!)

Their personalities:

Pig One is big and burly and kind of stupid.  He would be the "dumb jock" in high school.  He weighs almost 300 pounds, according to our friend Bruce.

Pig Two is smart, lean, and clever, maybe 270 pounds.  He would be the geeky smart guy who can hold his own against any dumb jock.

Pig One can push and shove Pig Two out of the way at feeding time, but it's Pig Two that sees his opportunity and plants his hoofs in order to shove back and get the advantage.

Pig Two sniffs around the electric wire, but it's almost always Pig One who takes the dare and touches the live wire.

Pig One stands up to eat, and munches delicately, for such a huge animal.  Pig Two lays down in front of the food and eats when he feels like it.

Pig One likes to be scratched on the fat part of his neck, but really wants to eat that stick more than stand still for scratching.  Pig Two is the one who lifts his snout up to actually take the stick from my hand and trot away with it.

Pig Two was the smart one when we were moving them to a new pen, and hung back until he saw what exactly was going on.  Pig One was lured out of the old mucky pen with cow manure and apple pulp (yum!), and then was stuck in no-pigs-land between pens, not knowing what to do.  Pig Two had no trouble moving to the new pen once he saw where Pig One ended up.

Pig One slurps from the hose in a very sloppy manner, water going everywhere.  Pig Two carefully funnels the water stream into his mouth, wasting next to nothing.

When I give them corn stalks from the garden, Pig One munches and crunches the leaves, stalks, and tops.  Pig Two goes straight for the undeveloped ears of corn first, then moves on to the less tasty morsels. 

Pig Two is the one who affectionately nibbles the wool of April, the young babydoll sheep.  Pig One is the rowdy one who gallops around the pen in excitement when he sees the sheep or the dogs, ears flapping, happy pig-noises filling the air.

Both pigs make endearing pig noises when I walk into the barnyard and simply say, in a deep gruff voice "Pigs".  It causes them to spring up from whatever they're wallowing in and wait in expectation at the gate.

Someone told us "Be careful. They WILL eat you".  We've repeated that phrase over and over while the pigs have been here.  These pigs would not eat us.  They are trusting and friendly.  It would be easier to see them go if they HAD been mean and aggressive.

Pig One and Pig Two have had just about the best lives that a pig could hope for.  (They probably could have done without the shocks from the electric fence.....)  They had plenty of food, fresh air, mud, fresh water, safety from predators, scraps from the garden, scraps from canning, sheep-friends to stop by and check in on a daily basis, Charming the calf to sniff noses with on the cow-pen side of their area, people who scratched their necks for them.....  Any factory pig would be green with envy.

At any rate, these two personable piggies have their date with destiny tomorrow.  They will be treated like any other pig for the last day of their lives.  (Well, they will still be treated with more dignity than usual.  They have the good fortune of being transported the DAY OF the deed, rather than being left in a livestock pen overnight at the slaughter house.  They will be transported in a roomy trailer, and the driver will avoid the bumpy road leading directly to the slaughtering facility, enjoying a more round-a-bout way with less pot-holes.  Can you tell I'm trying to rationalize at this point?!!!)

The pen will be empty when we come back from the delivery.  There will be no grunts of piggie pleasure when I walk out into the barnyard later in the day.  The sheep will check to see if their friends are in the pen, and then go on about their grazing business.  The dogs will trot over tomorrow morning when they get to do rat-patrol and run in the pasture, and maybe sniff around the pen once or twice and then move on.  

I think I'm the only one who will feel a lingering sense of something missing.  (Well, that's probably not fair to the rest of the family, who haven't been asked for their thoughts as I ramble on.....)

It's the anticipation of missing something that brings tears to my eyes.  It might be just fine, to not have two behemoths testing the fence and rolling in their own mess and going through $60 worth of feed every week.

Then again, maybe not!

I'll have to look forward to tiny, squealing piglets coming to the farm NEXT spring, and next time, I'll TRY not to get so attached to them.  (Good luck with that.)

   

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Playground antics

Photos:  Iris, the more matronly sheep

April, the mischievous young sheep

Pig One and Pig Two, burly yet sociable hogs

Phase One:  

The pigs started their lives here on the farm in a small enclosure, inside the barn, made up of a 16 foot long wire fence-panel attached at both ends to the wall.  It was cozy, secure, and they were happy.

Then came the sheep, in an identical enclosure, one side attached to the pig-pen, within nibbling distance.

Iris, the mature sheep, would have nothing to do with the curious piggies.  April, the 8 week old lamb, would look at them in curiosity.  When the pigs acted like puppies, dashing madly around and turning in circles until they fell down in an exhausted heap, April would stand at the side of her pen, closest to the action, and seem to goad them on.  Whenever possible, the piglets would nibble at April's tail through the fencing.  

Every day, the sheep were let out of the barn, passing the piglets, who did their hyper-active puppy routine as the sheep trotted past.  Iris would hold her head high and ignore them, while April might stop and sniff noses with them before bolting to catch up with Iris.

Phase Two:   

The pigs outgrew their enclosure, and we set them up in the cow-shelter next to the barn.  Pigs had mud, muck, old cow-litter, and "pig-heaven" out there.

The sheep had their enclosure enlarged, to include both the space of their original area and where the pigs had been.

Letting sheep and poultry out in the mornings, the pigs would dash around in their new enclosure at the sight of their sheep-buddies.  They would turn circles in the mud, ears flapping, tails wagging, and flop down exhausted, after the sheep trotted by en route to the grass in the pasture.

There was a mud hole and an electric wire between the pigs and the sheep, so.....if there was any greeting done through the fencing, it was from a distance.  But it never failed to amuse me, how the pigs would do their happy-dance as the sheep passed by.

Phase Three: 

The pigs need to be delivered to the butcher in a much cleaner state than what they enjoyed in the muddy cow pen.

They have a new enclosure now, with minimal mud, for their last few weeks here on the farm.  The sheep can approach from all 4 sides, and they did just that, checking out the new enclosure from the outside as the pigs got accustomed to the inside.  

April is no longer a lamb, but nearly a full-grown young lady (sheep).  The pigs are no longer small and cute, but huge beasts topping 200 pounds.  They are also the most curious, cheerful, sociable animals in the farmyard.

The first thing the sheep do when let out in the morning now is.....trot on over and greet their long-time friends.  It's not "I'll get there eventually".  It's a bee-line to where the piggies are waiting.  They stand at one side of the pig-gate and the pigs stand on the other side, looking as if they're having a "happy-to-see-you" chat.  

Throughout the day, I'll see April and Iris trotting over to check in on the pigs.  Sometimes April rests her chin in the fence-panel opening, and Pig 2 will nibble the fleece around her nose.  Sometimes, the pigs are stretched out along the 16' side of the pen, and the sheep will be standing on the other side, just hanging out.  The sheep daintily nibble up the hog feed that spills through the fence, while the pigs grunt and squeal over the feed on their side of the fencing.  When I tossed corn stalks in for the pigs, the sheep came over and munched a few corn leaves along with the pigs.

There's an unexplainable bond there that reminds me of kids on a playground.  

Boy One and Boy Two, burly young males, are in the sandbox, pushing their Tonka trucks through the sand, making loud truck noises, fairly oblivious to anything other than moving sand around, getting dirty and loving it (pigs nosing through the muck, making grunts and squeals of delight).  Girl One and Girl Two are irresistably drawn to the edge of the sandbox, giggling and laughing as they watch the boys, fascinated but taking great care not to get their pretty dresses dirty.  The boys act tough and brawny, the girls act shy and coy.  The boys/pigs might get up and show off their manliness with some rough-and-tumble antics.  The girls/sheep might dramatically gasp and whisper to each other before dashing off, only to peer back at the boys from a distance.   Boys/pigs go back to their sandbox play, while girls coyly return to watch the whole thing again. 

That's the interaction going on in the barnyard these days, as the pigs and sheep reunite for a few weeks of socializing.

I'm not looking forward to "Phase 4"......when the pigs are no longer here.

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Photos

Photos for this chilly September morning:

A nestful of adorably soft bunnies (don't let them fool you.  The earsplitting scream if you try to pick them up is NOT cute!)  There are 4 black ones and 3 gray ones.

Pig 2 portrait

Pig 1 portrait (before we moved them to their much cleaner new pen!)

Cows (notice Bessie's huge girth.  She still has until the beginning of November before that calf is born!)

Barn roof, in progress.  It's almost done now, we're just waiting for the guys to come back and finish the back-side.  No rain fell inside the barn once the new roofing was installed---what a wonderful, novel, (and expensive) idea!

 

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Scaling back to something manageable

So....we're scaling back, but the barn doesn't seem empty just yet.

Last year, there was a chicken explosion out in our barn.  (Not literally, of course!)  But there were chickens everywhere, nearing the surprising 200 mark.  We had 4 classrooms hatch eggs from our chickens, with probably an average of 15 chicks per classroom returned to us at 1 or 2 weeks of age.  One friend and his family hatched another batch, and that added to the count.  

Plus, I was all caught up in how wonderful it was to watch the circle of life as mama hen after mama hen hatched out babies of their own.  By the beginning of June 2012, it was starting to feel as if the barn was finally reaching its limit (the do-able workload and cost of feed had long since passed the point of being manageable by just one person, and the chicken manure was adding up).

Then we found out just how deadly a certain chicken virus could be.  As the chicks got older, say around 12-16 weeks old, the virus that had been brought into our flock a year earlier started affecting the young ones.  50% mortality rate, goopy eyes, rattling cough, sneezing, gasping for air......  Dead chicks every day, for a few months on end.  Even though I LOVE animals, I stopped feeling sorry for the dead ones and just disposed of them.  :(

The predators also found us, and the chicks who weren't protected by mama hens or by the rooster in charge of the flock were easy to pick off, especially if they were fighting symptoms of the sickness.  

By the end of fall 2012, we were down to 100 chickens, including 4 roosters, each with their little sub-flock of hens.  Except for the occasional sneeze, you never would have known that these birds had battled a respiratory virus and won.  They look perfectly healthy (actually, they ARE healthy, but will always pass on the virus to new birds--just part of the vicious virus and the way it spreads).  

Once in a while last winter and even this spring, a chicken would be found dead without any obvious reason.  Could have been the lingering effects of the virus, could have been any number of other things.  With 100 birds, the death of just ONE bird here and there didn't phase me much anymore.

We decided to eliminate the whole flock of birds by October of this year, and then to sanitize everything before bringing any new chickens to the farm.  It's been an ongoing process, juggled with providing fresh eggs to a local food co-op and to friends and trying to anticipate how many eggs we'd need to keep providing.  

Progress:  One day, our daughter Carrie surprised us with a visit and exclaimed, "Are these all the chickens you have left?!!!"  To me, there were still quite a few (probably 70, I thought).  But to anyone who had seen the numbers last year, it would have seemed a drastic difference.

So, after the most recent trip to the butcher with the next dozen hens, I counted.  The easiest way to do this is to open the barn door just wide enough that one chicken at a time can fit through, and stand on the outside so that they don't stop in mid-dash when they see me standing there.

Surprise!  We were down to 50!  Getting more manageable.

When we discovered that our small deep-freeze would no longer work, I had a new problem.  If I bring any more to the butcher, there is no-where to store them.  I'm working on a solution to that.....

There are all kinds of legal rules and regulations for selling chickens, very confusing.  Since we're not butchering them ourselves, but wanting to sell a few to friends who are asking about them, it gets a bit more complicated.  Can we sell them live and "offer" the butchering service after the sale?  Can we sell them frozen AFTER the butchering is done?  Can we only sell them ON the farm, or could we bring them to friends who want a few?  Too much legal red-tape!

Dilemma:  Even though we were down to 50 birds, I have to keep feeding them.  It costs about $120 per month to feed that many if there is no grass for them to eat out in the pasture.  It costs me $5 per bird to take them to the butcher.  The egg orders were way down from what I thought would be consistent (15 dozen every 2 weeks is what I mentally set as the "goal" for the egg sales to support the chickens laying those eggs).  AND the deep-freeze was out of commission, meaning that I couldn't continue to bring birds to the butcher without a place to keep them frozen afterward.  I'd keep feeding chickens longer, gathering eggs longer, cleaning up after messy birds longer that I wanted to.  Ultimately, we'd run into the problem of not even breaking even and having to feed chickens with money out of the family bank account.

Long story short:  I gave a dozen birds away.  I've been second-guessing myself, but it was the right thing to do and I might even do it again.

The barn roof is being installed.  The workers all have families, and all know how to butcher chickens from their own childhood experiences.  These same workers have been considerate, pleasant, polite, thoughtful, and hard-working.  When a black wall of thunder-clouds was rolling in, they refused to come down from the roof (despite the thunder sounding all around us!) until the seams were sealed and the hole from the cupola was closed.  They are only doing their job, but I appreciate how respectful they've been.  I remembered one friend of Carrie's who drove all the way from Chicago for chickens to take back for his extended family, and the delight of the women who came out with him when they saw the beautiful birds which would be the main course at their impromptu fiesta.

Twelve birds left the farm last night with some grateful workers, who were nearly dancing with glee at the prospect of having some stewing hens to share with friends and family.  

So, if my mental math is correct (I'd be surprised if it is!), we should be down to about 3 dozen hens.  Can that even be possible?!!!

Inside the door of the barn is a floor-to-ceiling maze of hay, stacked up and blocking the view of just about anything you'd want to see.  I imagine that, when those bales of hay are finally moved to the second floor (which is now dry, thanks to the roofers), the lack of chickens will seem surprising and the barn will seem very empty.  

For now, I'm feeling a little sad about the ones that are gone, but ultimately relieved that we'll finally have the time to devote to a much more manageable number!  

My plan for now is:  Keep just enough hens to provide for our family through the winter.  These will be Barnevelders, and one or two White Rocks.  We'll keep one rooster.  Next spring, we'll gather and hatch the eggs from the drastically reduced flock.  Those new chicks will never be exposed to the flock in the barn (for fear that the virus could infect them), but will be housed where the rabbits are now (the blue shed).  The blue shed has been virus-free since October of 2012, because no chickens are in there to spread any virus around.  When the chicks hatched next spring successfully grow up without getting sick, we'll know that we've broken the cycle of the virus.  

And if not, we'll re-group and start over again.

I'd like to think we've learned our lesson about keeping things manageable, but I'm sure there will be another population explosion of some other type of barnyard animal, and we'll learn that lesson all over again!

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Changes in the herd

We are craving Bessie's milk.  Not the recent stuff, but the delicious, sweet good stuff that she was giving up until a few weeks back.  About a month ago, it started tasting strange, leaving a bitter aftertaste.

The vet had told us that we didn't need to buy the expensive alfalfa hay, and that Bessie really only needed grass hay with up to 1/3 alfalfa in it (for our low-production needs for milk).  This coincided with buying hay from a different farmer, so we went with that suggestion.  That's about the time that the milk started tasting sour, but probably didn't cause it.....

I double-checked the way we clean Bessie's udder, what was in the grain mix from the mill, and the environment she lives in (cleanliness of the barn area, whether she slept in pig stuff that had migrated from higher ground into her cow-pen, that kind of fun stuff).

The vet came out to do a quick check for mastitis or high somatic cell counts in the milk.  Nothing wrong there, no infection to treat, no medical reason that the milk should taste like it was curdled.

In addition to the aftertaste, her milk started streaming out every morning even before I got out there to milk her.  I wasn't late, and she wasn't so full of milk that it would need to start leaking.

I posted the "bitter aftertaste" question on two different websites, with both groups of on-line experts (people with more experience than I have) saying that we weren't doing anything wrong.  The one suggestion there was that, for a cow that has been giving milk for 13 months, it might be time to dry her off.  I was thinking the same thing, and the vet agreed.  Her poor udder needed a break, and an extra month of rejuvenation before the November calf makes his/her appearance sounded like just the thing for the cow. 

 

Cows produce milk through their pregnancies, until 2 months before the calf is born.  Bessie would have given milk for only one month more before drying off by herself.  After 13 months of giving us more milk than we could possibly use, it was time to give her the rest she deserves.

We now have Miss Ruby (Bessie's 14 month old calf from last year) bellowing out in the pasture.  Ruby needed to be separated from Bessie so that she (full-grown calf that she is) would STOP nursing from her over-worked mama.  

Ruby takes out her frustration on Charming, by headbutting him and being a bully in general.  She bucks and kicks and runs full-speed into the flock of ducks and geese, scattering them as they try to waddle through the pasture and graze.  She stands at the gate, making as much noise as possible because her royal schedule is not going the way SHE wants it to go!  

One positive thing from Ruby's separation from mama:  She now wants to be more affectionate with us, because she and Bessie can't stand side by side and groom each other or just keep each other company.  Directed in the right way and not allowed to become a pest, becoming an affectionate family milk cow is a good goal to have in mind for this heifer as we get ready to list Ruby for sale.

Sir Charming (the Jersey-Holstein-Belted bull/steer calf) is with Ruby in the pasture, supposedly to keep her company, but mainly to keep him from trying to nurse from Bessie.  He routinely ignored the shock from the electric fence and goes back to be with Bessie, but there isn't much milk left for him to slurp down at this point.  When he's with Bessie, she lets him nurse while Ruby bellows.  When he's with Ruby, they bed down together quietly on the hay that they were supposed to be eating.  It's just a different "dance" as far as how the cow herd is working.

Bessie is blissfully alone in the smaller cow pen, no longer needing to head-butt her uppity daughter away from the hay, not needing to share the grain in the morning, resting where she can see Miss Ruby but not have her one-year old calf trying to nurse from her.....  And she seems to enjoy having Charming slip through the fence off and on, for the company and for some companionship, I think.

All of this falls neatly into place for a few reasons:

*Ruby seems to be pregnant, which means that I will list her for sale in a few weeks.  Better to separate her from mama Bessie now and get her used to being by herself (and not nursing!)

*Charming will probably be traded in October to some friends in exchange for a partial load of hay.  Sounds like an unfair trade, but believe me, the expense of hay makes it a very attractive offer.  He would otherwise live here until he's 18 months old, eating LOTS of expensive hay before being sent off to become freezer beef.  This way, as cute as he is, he'll be growing up with other calves and not  in the company humans who have fallen in love with his chocolate brown eyes and mahogany coat of fur......  He's destined to be in someone's freezer at 18 months of age, and it will undoubtedly be easier on us soft-hearted newbies if he leaves sooner rather than later.

*Bessie will be resting and getting her body and mind ready for her next calf, without the intrusions of a bratty daughter (Ruby) or a rough-nurser of a foster calf (Charming).

One other thing that came to mind.  We needed freezer space.  Sounds unrelated, but it isn't.  We are without any deep-freeze space at the moment.  Our upright chest freezer is full of Bessie's milk, frozen in better production days for just such a time as this.  We are rationing that frozen milk out, 1/2 gallon per day, and the freezer is gradually being cleared out.  Pigs and chickens will be going to the butcher over the next month or so, and freezer space is at a premium.  See where I'm going with this?

Over the next month, we'll go through thirty or more 1/2 gallon Ziploc bags of frozen milk.  That's 15+ gallons of milk that will no longer be taking up freezer space.  That's a whole lot of freezer space available when we didn't expect it to be empty for, say, chickens, or half a pig.

We still need to find a chest-freezer to replace the one that's broken, and a friend has given me a contact to call about that.  We'll see how things shape up there.

For now, Ruby is being weaned (about time!), Charming is filling a valuable role as Ruby's punching bag (not really, but he's taking the bullying with grace and humor), and Bessie is reposing in blissful solitude, in her mucky manure-filled cow-yard, getting ready for her next calf.  Freezer space is being slowly cleared out as we use up that frozen marvelous milk.

Everything is falling into place for the changing of cow/freezer/livestock status as we transition into the "winter" setting:  No pigs in the barnyard (in the freezer instead for hearty winter meals); hardly any chickens (more hearty winter meals); only one mama cow and a new calf (Ruby and Charming will be off to new homes); Iris and April the sheep in the barn; turkeys in the freezer for Thanksgiving and not out in the barn making a mess and a racket; geese and ducks reduced to only the few we need for making babies in the spring to start the cycle of life all over again......  

It will be comparatively quiet around the old farmstead until spring brings the potential of new piglets, baby lambs, chicks, ducklings, goslings, a new shipment of turkey poults.....

Winter will be valuable "down-time", as we prepare and gear up for all of the new life coming in Spring.

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

LIFE on a daily basis.....

Yesterday I wrote about death and life (the death of 2 ducklings which one mama chicken hatched, the death of 3 new rabbit kits while 7 kits survived).  It happens so often that it's almost not enough "news" to type about.

Last night, ducklings started hatching in the barn, the way God intended this time (under a mother duck, not under a mother chicken).  Although not one but TWO mother ducks were vying for the title of best mother duck, little peeping noises could be heard underneath the one duck which was actually sitting on the nest full of eggs.  Closer inspection revealed 3 or 4 little black fuzzy ones, with one still trying to hatch.  There are/were 24 eggs under that duck, mostly because duck mama #2 kept laying her twice-a-week egg on the same nest.  There are an uncounted number of eggs left now, because of the fierce hissing of the mother ducks and the protection of the ducklings that have already hatched.

This morning, disaster was averted.  The flock of older ducklings (at 10 weeks old, they are as big as adult ducks) wandered and quacked past the nest where the new, curious ducklings were peering out at the world.  Mama duck(s) were at the waterer on the other end of the barn, and the babies must have been feeling a little anxious.  They tumbled out of the nest and tried to follow the crowd of much bigger ducklings.  The teenager ducklings wanted nothing to do with these little toddlers, and were trampling them and pecking at them.  Mama duck(s) joined the fray, but the little ones were too confused by that point to figure out who they were supposed to be following.

Enter Rescue Ranger Laura, shooing the big clumsy ducklings away from the nest, escorting the frantic mamas back to their ducklings, and blocking off the route with a bale of hay (to keep little ones safe, and bigger ones out).

Later this morning, I was outside the barn and heard frantic peeping.  The four little ducklings had slipped through the partition between free-range barn area and the steps leading up to Jeff's workshop area.  Mother duck was on the nest, trying to hatch the remaining eggs.  Baby ducklings couldn't see their way clear to slip through the opening they'd just come through (chicks are SO much smarter!).  More rescue was needed, so the babies were scooped up (by me), returned to the nest area, and more bales of hay were put in place to ensure the safety of the babies.

This is why we tend to lose ducklings and not chicks:  

-Ducklings (at least in our barn) leave their mother and follow any chicken or duck that LOOKS like it could be their mother.  They easily bond with another bird which wants nothing to do with them.  

-Mother ducks continue sitting on eggs for a few days after the first ones hatch, making for some very curious, bored and alert little ducklings who don't seem to bond with mama the same way a chick bonds with its mama chicken.  

-The communication between mother duck and baby duck seems to be lacking, when compared to a mother hen who clucks non-stop to her quick and active little babies.

-Compared to little chicks, duck babies are content to waddle around as a group and not stay in the protection of their flock or of the mother duck.  Chicks run full-speed to keep up with their mother chicken, while duck babies toddle around, eventually getting to where their mother duck is trying to lead them.

-And maybe these particular mother ducks are not as attentive as they need to be.

At any rate, there are 4 fuzzy little black cuties out there, with another struggling to live after being out in the cold for who-knows-how-long, and more trying to hatch.  

Life triumphs again, at least for this morning!

 

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/