Bea (and "Boris")

Our guinea hog gilt (young female hog) Miss Bea is ready and waiting for the male who will sweep her off of her feet (um....hooves).  

She was accustomed to Buddy, who took charge, wuffed in cows' faces for her sake, gamboled around the pasture without a care in the world, rushed to her defense but also shamelessly took the best food for himself (amid earsplitting protests from a younger Bea).  

Now that Buddy is gone, the poor girl is in with Buford (aka Twitchy) and Boss, who are not purebred (gasp!) but are growing nicely and their personalities are becoming quite evident.  Bea is holding her own against a very vocal and bold Twitchy, while happily shoving Boss around and using her piggy bulk to her own advantage.

Photos:  A male piglet from Ham Sweet Farm in Michigan....

See the piglet on top of the others in the 2nd photo?  The one with the red collar?  The one who is eagerly taking what is rightfully his (a mouthful of milk from a contented mama) while trampling his littermates to get to it?

This little guy will be joining our menagerie in a few weeks.  As you can see, he's already a "go-getter", "top of the pile" sort of character.  We chose his name months ago:  "Boris".  Time will tell if the name fits the personality.

This piglet will hopefully be the daddy of future American Guinea Hog piglets on our farm (in fall of next year, maybe?).  He could be a take-charge kind of boar, and we're hoping that Bea falls helplessly, head-over-heels for him when he's just a bit bigger and more mature....  

He has a lot of growing up to do, doesn't he?

  

Laura

Summer update

Let's see....what has happened in the last few months?

Cat fatalities:

Well, it's been a bad summer to be a cat on our farm.  

The black stray cat got hit on the road close to our mailbox.  

We went away for one night and our short-hair orange tabby barn cat was hit while we were gone. Then our long-hair orange and white barn cat went missing one day and was dead on the driveway by my car the next morning, not a mark on him.  

All within a 3 week time period.  

I looked up feline leukemia and distemper, just in case the stray had brought a virus in that killed the orange and white one, but it doesn't seem to fit.

The good news is that now the original barn cat (Spartan) and last summer's remaining orange tabby barn cat are best buddies, filling the void that Spartan seemed to still be feeling after his brother was hit out on the road last fall.  

The new kitties are venturing downstairs from the hayloft, and have become very friendly.  Time to call the spay-neuter program and get them taken care of before they venture too far outside.  And I'll ask about getting them vaccinated for distemper and feline leukemia, but.....the feral cat program in our county tends to do inexpensive spay-neuter and give shots for rabies, then they "tip" one ear (cut off the tip to signify that the cat is no longer a threat for reproducing) and that is it.

In strange coincidence for our family of animal lovers, I noticed (and Jeremy remarked about this for himself) that we no longer grieve over dead barn cats.  There's a moment where we gather our thoughts and mentally adjust which cats we're watching for at feeding time, but that's about all.  We even debated whether to continue burying them, but in the end, those that could be buried were placed under the red-bud tree with other cats and rabbits that are no longer here....being hit by a vehicle going 55 miles an hour on Greenwood Road doesn't always result in a cat that can actually be buried, sad to say....  

Sheep drama:

Patriot, the lamb born on Memorial Day, involved himself in a sheepish accident (couldn't resist!)  Actually, it was a bit "freakish" in a stupid-sheep sort of way (remember the sheep who got themselves stranded on the one remaining snow drift this past winter?  Little legs dangling down uselessly on either side of their "perch" because they'd plowed into the snow while running full speed?).  

The lamb fiasco:  I tossed some stale bread over the fence, and about 20 minutes later we heard insistent bleating from one of the lambs.  I assumed it was Patriot, because he is always making a racket, but wasn't prepared to see him stuck up against the pig pen with his lip impaled by a garden planter.  Yeah, how much more random can you get?!!

Somehow, in true sheep fashion, he had gotten into an impossible situation, making it worse for himself when he struggled to get free as I tried to herd the pigs past him so that I could help him.

Within an hour, he was eating and drinking as if nothing had happened, but a week later, we wrestled him to the ground to soap up his face and make sure that the puncture wasn't infected.  It seemed fine, but wasn't closed up yet.  No call to the vet (I most surely would have called the vet a year ago!) and little Patriot seems to have a permanent drooling problem out the side of his lip but nothing more.

Piggy addition:  

In the next few weeks, we should finally have a breeding-quality guinea hog male for Miss Beatrice.  We have to drive halfway across Michigan to get him, so that the piggy genetics on mama pig and papa hog's sides aren't duplicated on the eventual piglets' pedigrees..  

Beatrice will be one year old in November, and should be bred in that time-frame.  But....the new little guy will be only 4 months old by then, so Miss Bea will just need to be patient.

I was hoping for spring-time piglets, but at this point, after contacting numerous breeders in our own area over the past few months with no luck in finding a suitable mate for Bea, I'll be happy to have piglets born SOMETIME next year.  And driving to Michigan will bring back some American Guinea Hog genetics that are simply not found in Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin....  Sigh.

Looks like Miss Bea will be a cradle-robber as she waits for her perfect Prince to grow up.  

So much else has kept us busy, but those three things stand out.  Cats (the good, the bad), sheep (stupid, but adorable in spite of themselves), and trying to find a princely match for Miss Bea.....

I'll try to post some photos of the completed Chicken Palace sometime soon.  Jeff has received lots of great compliments on how nicely it turned out, and the new Barnevelders and White Holland turkeys are ever-so-happy to have such luxurious accomodations.  :)

 

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Dogs to the rescue

In the quiet of the morning, suddenly I became aware of Shadow (the lab-mix) whimpering and clawing frantically at all the clumps of husky-hair that had collected under the entry-way bench.  Sly (the black cat) was sitting calmly on top of the bench.  That combination means just one thing:  a rodent was hiding under the bench.  That combination usually means:  the rodent still has a fighting chance to get away.

Sigh.  We'd heard one in the wall a few nights back.  The wall behind our bed leads into the closet in our room which leads under the stairs to the 2nd floor which has a tiny opening at the very far end to let a mouse get through to the rest of the first floor......

Sly had probably been tracking the little mouse for most of the night, then it was finally cornered under the bench and Shadow interrupted Sly's hunting strategy.

Pulling the bench out from the wall, sure enough, a tiny gray figure streaked along the line where the wall meets the floor.  Shadow was close behind, but not close enough.  

The little mouse peered out from under an enormous pair of running sneakers, took a right-angle leap up the single stair and onto the carpet, and streaked into the first floor bathroom.

It was cute and little, but not cute enough for me to stop the animals from hunting it down.

Shadow's rodent-hunting strategy is.....watch for the critter, think about it a moment, then follow and go crazy.  The mouse was safely under the cast-iron tub before Shadow even started for the bathroom.

While she was clawing up the hundred-year-old floor trying to get the mouse out from under the tub, I moved smaller things up off the floor.  Lots of back-and-forth and a few mad-dashes later, the little mouse was still safe behind that tub.

All of this time, Rocky (the husky) was perched outside on the picnic table, his usual spot to survey his domain.  He didn't want to come inside, but I forced him to leave his kingly throne.....  

Immediately, he heard Shadow's whimpering and knew what was happening.  He made a bee-line to the bathroom, where Shadow was still peering under the tub when we could see the mouse plainly in the corner by the doorway.  

Before the sight of those little brown eyes and whiskery nose even registered in my brain, Rocky chomped it up and trotted away.  

Rocky's rodent-hunting strategy:  Don't bother with the thinking.  React in less than a split-second and think later.  

He unfortunately brought the mouse into his dog-crate in the kitchen, set it down in the back corner, and off it went through the bars of the cage.

I'm sure you've all seen videos of people shrieking uncontrollably when a mouse streaks towards them.  Well, after moving dog crates (more clouds of dog hair) and the computer desk, the dogs chased the little mouse straight towards me.  And I screamed.  And danced around a bit.  Had just enough time to be glad that no-one was there with a camera.  And couldn't stop screaming.  Until I was laughing uncontrollably.  (And still sort of screaming.)

Anyway, they cornered it under Shadow's dog crate.  We moved that crate and all the shoes that were strewn around that area.  It streaked towards the refrigerator, where they seemed to lose the trail.

  

Fall-back rodent-hunting strategy for both dogs:  Retrace your steps to try to recapture the fresh scent.

About half-an hour of frantic searching later, it was clear that the mouse was not under dog crates, or under the refrigerator, or back in the bathroom or entry-way.  Both dogs were just about exhausted (which will make for a nice, quiet day for the rest of us!)

My gaze fell on the air conditioning vent, which is an old cast-iron type with mouse-size decorative openings.  Right in the path between dog-crate and refrigerator.  Just at the point where the dogs lost the mouse.  Yeah, it's still in the house.  

The aftermath:  The mouse is still on the loose.    Maybe Sly will be successful tonight if it peeks out of the heater vent.  

The first floor is a mess of dog hair that has been set free from underneath and behind things.  Now that things are moved away from the wall would be a great time to get some deep-cleaning done.  

But no, that won't be happening.....  

With husky-hair billowing all around the house now, did I mention that our vacuum is broken?  ;)

 

Laura

Loads of hay....

First photo:  Here's what rolled into our driveway at 10 on Sunday morning....

Two hay "baskets", one with 150 bales and one with 112 bales.  Second cutting hay, since the first cutting was all rained on, ruined, made into "haylage", or large baled for feeding to beef cattle. Since we go through about 2 bales of hay each day (less now that we have some good quality stuff), this will last us approximately 140 days, or 4 months.  Since we need to stock up on hay for an entire year, we have quite a bit more hay to go before reaching our goal.....but this is a really good start, and more to unload in one day than we've ever done before. 

Next:  is the barn loft with what was left of last year's first cutting hay.  Stemmy, not really very nutritious for the animals.  Less than 100 bales.  But all we had until this year's hay was available.  I was getting a LITTLE nervous, because the pasture has been grazed down and the sheep, cows, and pigs weren't getting a lot of fresh leafy stuff to offset the old hay that was left.

Next (third photo), Jeremy and cousins Jordan and Nolan are ready to tackle the mountain of hay.  About 50 bales into it, they were dragging....but they did a great job.  Each of them found his "place" in the assembly-line set-up.  Tossing down the bales was Jordan, (who discovered that the dust inside the barn really aggravates his sinuses!) dragging bales into the barn was Jeremy, carrying bales to the hoist area it was me with a rotating list of helpers, hoisting up through the hay chute became Nolan's job, upstairs it was Michael and Jeff taking the bales from the hook and stacking them.  I'll need to pack them in tighter so that we can get the next deliveries upstairs, but wow, what a good work crew!  I was impressed.

Yesterday ended with a bonfire, which fizzled.  And marshmallows.  And the horde of mosquitoes which forced us to run inside for cover.  But the boys had a great day.

And now:

We still have about 50 bales from yesterday's delivery on the first floor of the barn which need to be hoisted up this morning.  We might get a load of 2nd cutting alfalfa today or tomorrow.  We might get 100 bales of straw for bedding within the week if rain holds off.

Rain is forecast for Wednesday, I think....

The boys have opted for the board game "Farmopoly" rather then the real thing, but we'll get out there soon enough.  Speaking of which, they are ready and headed out to the rabbit shed.  We want to make a rabbit "colony", and use fewer cages, so there are some adjustments and compartments to build.  Hopefully the boys will have some good ideas, because I really want it to be their project rather than Aunt Laura/Mom telling them what to do.  :)

 

Laura

The pigs make some friends

I tried to get a photo, but they didn't cooperate.  

In the pasture today, together for a short time, grazing side by side, were.....

Five Olde English sheep of different ages

and.....

3 pigs.

Side by side.

Amazing.

The sheep get to graze first thing in the morning, before any other furry critters are let out.  Peaceful, serene, just the sheep and the poultry.  It's actually quite beautiful to watch sheep grazing quietly on a rolling green pasture.

The pigs had just recently been let out.  After Buddy "wuffed" in cow Bessie's face that one day, I've been hesitant to trust the pigs with any of the other livestock.  But now the dynamic is different.

Little "Red" the mischievous one went right up to the sheep, who were taking their afternoon siesta in THEIR area of the barn.  As if on cue, all 5 sheep jumped to their feet and dashed out the door, getting stuck shoulder-to-shoulder as they wedged themselves through.  

This set off little Red (formerly known as Twitchy, and known as Buford before that....).  She started cavorting like a puppy.

Her craziness set off Boss, who scampered around with her after they collided on purpose.  

Bea, who is the older and therefore the more sedate of all 3, even joined in the gleeful dashing around, tossing her head and snorting loudly.  

They dashed through the resting flock of 28 duck(ling)s.  They splashed through the muck in the cow pen.  They ran towards the watching cows inside the cow pen, and joyously kicked up their heels and wheeled away just before the cows could make a move.

The sheep watched warily, but the pigs finally calmed down.

Just half an hour later, I glanced out and had to look twice.  

There was April and her lamb May, with a red something-or-other next to May.  It was Twitchy!  Grazing quietly.

Over by Iris and her lamb Patriot was a larger and rather rotund black shape.  Bea, the guinea hog, munching clover.  Very close to the sheep and taking no notice.

Little Boss, the black guinea hog-Kune Kune mix, was off by himself, but not causing any trouble.

Not too long after, the three pigs migrated off to the north end of the pasture while the sheep continued to munch around the firepit in the center.  There was no wuffing, no chasing, no running into a grazing flock of sheep at full speed and scattering them, no satisfied sauntering away after causing mayhem.

Buddy's influence and mischievousness didn't last long after he was gone, and now things are much more calm and quiet out there.

I'll still be sure to call those piggies in before the cows get their turn to graze.  The little pigs are in danger of getting trampled by the angry mother cow and her law-enforcing son.  In their minds, pigs do not belong in the pasture.  These cows do not want to associate with smelly, fun-loving, mischievous pigs under any circumstance.  

The cows are holding a long-term grudge, and don't seem to care that Buddy is no longer out there to instigate the other swine......

 

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

Don't insult the hog....

Oh, the insult!  

The butcher had originally listed Buddy as "Pot belly pig"!!!!  

I'm chuckling about it now, but I bet my voice had just a tinge of incredulity as I corrected the woman who took the meat-cutting order.

He was a heritage-breed hog.  An American classic.  A snake-eating, grazing breed of pig from the south during Civil War times.  

"These pigs were popular with subsistence farmers, not only through their ability to forage for themselves, but also because their habit of eating snakes made the farmyard safe for children and livestock."  -Wikipedia

"Guinea Hogs were expected to forage for their own food, eat rodents and other small animals, grass, roots, and nuts, and clean out garden beds. The hogs were also kept in the yard where they would eat snakes and thus create a safe zone around the house. These Guineas were hardy and efficient, gaining well on the roughest of forage and producing the hams, bacon, and lard essential for subsistence farming."  --The Livestock Conservancy

Pot belly pig!  What were they THINKING?!!!  :)

 

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/

The situation "plays out"

Photo:  Milo the barn cat on intruder-alert, with the bold black cat who seemed unafraid of anything

Previous entry:  "A young black male cat with slightly crossed-eyes has been establishing residence at our farm.  We already have one black indoor-outdoor neutered male cat, 4 neutered orange tabby male barn cats, and 2 young unneutered tabby male kittens.  This black kitty seems to be fearless.  He was first seen two days ago, after we heard numerous cat fights during the night.  Yesterday, he came right up on the front step with 3 of the other cats.  

Last night, when we went out to load Buddy into the trailer, a sleek black shape ran from the fenced area behind the barn.  Today, he faced off with Sly, and he sat in the garden with Milo, the short-haired orange tabby.  None of our cats is pleased about the intruder, but this little cat is determined.  Spartan (the oldest barn cat) has had two injured paws in the last 2 weeks, and came in with a few bite marks on his ears a few nights ago.  A brave male cat who tries to move in but is injuring our own cats will be run off (by us!) at every opportunity.  Waiting to see how it plays out."

And it didn't take too long.  We came home this afternoon to see a lifeless black cat on the road in front of our driveway.  A quick glance as I turned the car into our driveway assured me that it wasn't our own cat Sly.  

Even though our cats had been injured by this young upstart, there was something really sad about seeing the unwelcome black cat there in the street.....

The evidence, such as it was:  On checking for clues, there were 2 dead shrews on the driveway, one of them fresh.  Sly and Spartan (2 of our own cats) were stalking around, obviously on patrol.  Spartan was limping on a back foot, rather than previous injuries to both front paws.  The younger barn cats were nowhere to be seen.  (Typical:  They might fight WITH Spartan, but it's always Spartan who is left to do the security detail when it really matters.)  

And then, Rocky barged through the doorway and we thought he was running away, but he headed straight towards the area in front of the garage, where the supposed cat-fight would have happened an hour or so earlier.  (The dogs go crazy inside the house whenever they hear a cat fight).

Here's what I think happened, although I may be way off base.  No way to know for sure.

The bold black cat ventured onto our property (or came out of hiding) to hunt while we were gone this afternoon.  Our cats Spartan and Sly, having had enough of the intruder, scaled a full attack.  The little black cat, facing more than one angry Dykstra cat closing in, fought valiantly before leaving his fresh-caught shrew on the driveway.  He made a dash for it, and....ran straight into traffic.  Like it was when Charlie was hit, the speed of the traffic was such that it was instant death, not a mark on him.  :(

Jeff watched the flow of traffic for me later as I gently lifted the lifeless cat out of the middle of the road and laid him under the low-hanging branches of a tree at the edge of the property.

Well, I wanted to see how it played out, but I never wanted the black cat to get hit by a car.  I had been thinking of closing the barn cats inside the barn one night (soon!), setting a trap for the black cat, and bringing him in to the county feral cat neuter program before setting him free again on our property.  At least then the fighting instinct is lessened somewhat.

Sigh.  We didn't need another cat, but I would have done what I could to make his life a little easier.

 

Laura
http://dykstrasfarm.blogspot.com/