I didn't realize when I got farm animals it meant I couldn't have landscape plants unless we put up fences everywhere.  I'm not really opposed to attractive fencing, but JR hates fences and weed whacking around them.  And digging post holes.  And not being able to walk through areas without opening a gate.  Or going anywhere he wants on the four wheeler.

I have to bring up the idea of additional fencing very carefully.  A little hint here and there, possibly a sign of frustration when the chickens eat yet another cantaloupe or cucumber from the garden. Granted, I didn't plant cantaloupes and they were volunteers, but I would rather we ate the melons and not the chickens.

I say things like, "When you have time, could you... " "Not right now, but..." "I know you have a lot going on, but..." I want to make sure he doesn't think I am riding him to do yet one more thing for me, but I am not a patient person. When I get an idea, I want to do it RIGHT now!

My donkeys have a 1 acre pen they share with the chickens.

The chickens free range during the day, returning to the pen and their coop to grab some grub or lay an egg. At dusk they put themselves back in the coop, me encouraging the dawdlers with scratch, and we close them in for the night for safety.  The donkeys stay in the pen until I let them out.  Typically they are free during the day to graze around the property because they have eaten the grass in their pen down to nothing.  This is when they get into trouble.

The donkeys tear at our peach or citrus trees, eat all the leaves off my rose bushes, rip plants out of pots, or eat my bird seed from my hanging feeders, sometimes all of those. It drives me nuts, but I don't like them out of sight, so any time they are a little too far away from me, I haul them back to the house, where they get in trouble, where I need fences. Here is one of the many fences surrounding our trees. They are staked to the ground, which isn't always a deterrent for the donkeys.

I researched diligently before I purchased any bushes or flowers for around the cabin.  I know how these donkeys are, if they can get to it, they will chew on it.  Azaleas, no.  Oleanders, no.  Junipers, Yew, Ivy, Avocado, the list goes on of plants to keep away from equines.  I stood in Home Depot Garden Center scanning the stocked plants and checking them against the list of poisonous plants online, a little perturbed at how many there were.

I settled on Variegated Pittosporum and Mexican Heather.  We planted them in front of the cabin and immediately blocked them with an open topped, metal, dog play yard on one side of the steps and electrical fencing, minus electricity, on the other. 

Not pretty, but that's okay because this lasted 2 minutes before the donkeys figured out how to get in there and rip half the plants out of the ground. 

Plan B.  I decided having bushes in front of the cabin was overrated.  I mean, snakes could hide behind them and stuff, right?  So JR and I moved the remaining tiny bushes up to the front entrance, on either side of the gate, by my rose bushes and poisonous Azaleas. Give it time, in 10 years, it will look smashing.   

I have decided I am going to make my fenced backyard my flower garden and not let the donkeys back there anymore.  We have also talked about possibly saving cedar trunks and making a fence to go around the pomegranate, citrus and bird feeders I have on the side yard. I removed all the lower bird feeders because Cletus kept knocking them down.  Everything else is surrounded by wire fencing.  Poor little plants are in prison. 

We have a fence around the outside of the property:

A fence around the backyard:

A fence around my garden:

A fence to keep the donkeys in:

So yes, we have animals and with animals we have fencing. I have not given up on my landscaping ideas, but I might need to revise them a little.  I mean, what would I do without the boys? ;)  They will be here as long as I am, so might as well make it donkey friendly around here even if it means a few less flowers around the place. 

Chick, Chick

And then there were six.  Eggs, that is.  In the last 2 weeks our eggs per day have doubled, then doubled again and again.  It's such a thrill and the thrill isn't lessening with each new day.  Every afternoon I walk out to the coop, open the back and... presents!!!  And I don't just mean bird droppings.  If I had known what a wonder this all was, I would have had chickens in the city a long time ago.

People don't tell you how neat chickens are.  I mean, really tell you.  Sure, I have heard, "I love our chickens, I love watching our chickens, our chickens are funny, they have such personalities", but they are really, really neat!

They are friendly.  I researched before I got the chickens on the best egg layers with the friendliest personalities and came up with Barred Plymouth Rocks.  They are also good for their meat, which I don't plan on finding out.  If it was the end of the world, maybe, but I'll put that on the back burner for now.

I needed friendly birds because I have always been afraid of them.  I remember walking down by the Fox River near my home in Wisconsin and a huge flock of birds were on the telephone wires squawking away. I must have been near their nests because they started dive bombing me and shrieking.  I ran out of there so fast, my heart jumping out of my chest!

I ordered the chicks from a mail order company as close to me in TX as I could get.  I figured I didn't need Alaskan chicks.  The less stress on them the better. They arrived in a little cardboard box which I asked my husband to open in case any of them had died.  But no, six fluffy little chicks, the five I had ordered and the bonus chick they generally include in case you lose one in shipping. They were soooo cute, but I still had quivers down my spine at the thought of touching them.

I had their little home all set up.  A wire dog cage with the top piece zip tied along the back, so I could move it up and down, set on our screened in porch.  Inside I had encircled a big piece of corrugated plastic to keep any breeze off them.  It had a layer of newspaper and then shavings on top of that and then paper towel on top of that, so they wouldn't eat the shavings.  I also had a thermometer and a heat lamp to keep them warm.

I had Gro-gel prepared which is a green powder that you mix with water that becomes gelly. It is full of vitamins.  I also mixed up a batch of water for them with added electrolytes and probiotics to replenish anything they might have lost from their travel to me and there was chick food scattered on the paper towels.

I put the box in the cage, then tipped it to get the chicks out, less touching this way.  But now I had to dip their beaks in water to make sure they all drank.  I took a deep breath and they were so soft, but weird feeling, like I was touching a bird! Ugh.  It wasn't that bad if I didn't look at their feet.  They were so birdlike!

Let's say I got over it, kind of.  I don't sweep down and pick them up now, but I pet them all time and let them come around me without getting freaky.  I HAVE picked them up to put them in the coop when I need to, but that isn't a daily occurrence.

They run up to me anytime I walk outside and are very curious as to what I am doing.  I might have treats.  They let me pet their beautiful, soft feathers, but if they are unsure, they look like they are playing a game of Green Light, Red Light.  Run, Run, Run...OH NO she is coming towards me.  STOP!  Crouch.  Wait.  Green Light.... GO!  It is hilarious!

The chickens are a little shy.  They surround me, cluck at me and follow me, but they rarely touch.  It's like me with Kelly Clarkson.  "Do you see me?  Do you like me?  Will you notice me?  Hey! Hey!  Over here!!!  Wait!  Are you nice? "

Sometimes they hop on the porch and watch us through the windows.  They will talk to us with rolling sounds that turn into a real "cluck" noise.  And if you talk to them, they will always cock their head to the side like they are really listening to you.

Watching them run is my favorite thing to do.  It is like if you tied your hands behind your back and sprinted down the road.  They have soft fluffy rears that wiggle back and forth.  So funny!

I have a horrible time telling them apart.  I should have gotten a mixed batch, but one has a crooked comb, named after my friend, Sheila, and there is another with a crooked right toe who I am thinking of naming Lisa, but to tell you the truth, end up calling her "crooked toe" all the time.  I spend a lot of time with them and will get their names to them soon enough. They will be Sheila, Lisa, Nancy, Flo, Audrey and Debbie, after my friends from League City.

We close them in their coop and run in the evening for their safety, but let them free range all day.  They mostly stick together in groups of 3 or all together, separating only to go to the coop to lay an egg.  They put themselves to bed at night, so we just have to close the door.  The coop and donkeys are also in the same acre pen, so they keep an eye on the chickens for us at night.

So if you ask, I love my chickens,  I love watching our chickens, our chickens are funny, they have such personalities.  One more thing; they give us incredible eggs.  The yolks are a bright orange, the whites clear, the taste, amazing.  It tastes real, not at all processed or watered down, rich.

Get chickens, even if only 2 or 3, you won't regret it. This here is Lisa, aka Crooked Toe.

Chickens in the Road

Anyone who has known me for any length of time knows I am a harsh judge when it comes to the books I read.  They are too detailed, too long, too dull, too wordy.  My biggest pet peeve is when they use fancy vocabulary which requires me to look up every other word.  Write normal for crying out loud!  I am here to happily report I have found a book that I LOVE by Suzanne McMinn called Chickens in the Road.

Suzanne has written a memoir of her experiences starting a small farm in West Virginia with her boyfriend and 3 children.  There is just enough personal information to keep you informed and interested without system overload, the main focus of the book on how she started each new project, how she afforded them and how they turned out.

She has chickens, pigs, goats, sheep, a cow, dogs, cats, etc. and strives for self-sufficiency making her own cheese, bread, butter, meat, eggs and anything else she can get her hands on.  Her descriptions have just the right amount of information to give you a good idea of how she is doing it without being bogged down by too many details.

McMinn, a former romance writer, has an easy going writing style, making you feel as if you have made a new friend who is sharing her experiences with you.  I like her. I like her farm and I like her style.

This is one of the best "back to basics" memoirs I have read in a long time.  I couldn't put it down.  You can follow her on her blog at http://chickensintheroad.com.  Here she has her site separated in different interests for those of you who love recipes, or want to read about her animals, the crafts she has made or the classes she is offering.

I highly recommend this book and site.  I want to be her minus the winter driving escapades.  lol

Waste Not, Want Not

I HATE waste. Once again, a throw back to my frugal upbringing in a home supporting eight children and growing up closely with my Grandmother who lived through the Depression. 

It starts with Beets.

A friend of ours, Harley, offered me a bag full of beets and I jumped at them!  I LOVE beets, especially when they are pickled.

I washed them in our sink, taking the dirty water outside to water our baby goji berry bush.

I removed the greens and older leaves and put the beets on the stove to simmer for 30 minutes or so before dunking them in ice cold water.  The older leaves ended up in the compost pile.

The newer greener leaves fed the donkeys and chickens. 

After removing the peel and roots, which slid right off, I had a bucketful of scraps and headed back out to the chickens and donkeys.  YUM!

I heated the vinegar, sugar mixture, poured it over the sliced beets and canned the beets for future pleasure, which happened to be in like 15 minutes.  haha

So you see, no waste.  Dirty water, greens, old greens, peels and roots plus the beets themselves.  I will spare you from the chicken and donkey poop talk and what I do with that.  *See last post.  lol 

Permaculture at its finest.  Next up:  Green beans.

How to Start a Garden, Pamela Style

Having a garden in Giddings means starting from scratch.  The ground is a sandy loam clay mixture with native TX grass and the easiest way to build the soil is to start from the ground up.

In the past, we used untreated lumber to build our raised beds, but the TX sun is harsh and we were lucky to get 2 years out of them, so we decided to use cinder blocks this go round.  I don't think we will be replacing them anytime soon.

Step 1:  I order a bunch of stuff from Amazon and collect the boxes.  This is the fun part.  I remove any packaging tape on the boxes, because in previous gardens I was finding the tape in the beds years later.  I am a wee bit anti-plastic anyway, so it is just easier to get rid of it from the get go.

Step 2:  Put the cardboard on the ground and line up the cinder blocks to form the bed.  I don't want the bed to be any wider than 30" for ease of reaching the plants from each side.  Cinder blocks are heavy, by the way, and you need to wear gloves if you want any skin left on your hands.

Step 3:  Fill the bed with donkey poop.  It is my hottest compost and probably the longest to break down before I can use it safely without burning the new plants, so I put it on the bottom.  With the donkey poop is old grass, leaves, dirt and whatever else I end up raking up as I am cleaning their pen.  Luckily male donkeys poop in a few piles and just add to them as they feel the need, so it isn't really a big deal to clean up after them.  

Step 4:  Top the poop with carbon.  We have fires to burn dead trees when the weather allows and after the fire has burnt down and cooled, we are left with black char-wood referred to as Terra Preta. Terra Preta, meaning "Black Earth" in Portuguese, is a soil building technique developed by ancient Amazonian civilizations at least 7000 years ago as a solution to permanently solve the problems of poor tropical soil fertility. Large deposits of this black earth are still found today with depths of up to 2 meters.  

We have yet to figure out exactly how ancient civilizations produced Terra Preta, but what we do know is that the soils contain high amounts of char-wood (also referred to as bio-char). Char-wood is basically a form of charcoal produced by burning wood.

Char-wood, like charcoal, is a carbon source that has extreme stability in soil. In addition, it is extremely porous and therefore offers a large surface area for the formation of stable and long lasting chemical bonding of soil organic matter with soil minerals. Terra Preta soils have been found to contain organic matter content that are 50x greater and contain 3x more Phosphorus and Nitrogen as neighboring forest soils. In addition, even the heavy tropical rains do not leach nutrients out of this soil.  ( http://permaculturenews.org/2010/05/25/back-to-the-future-terra-preta-%E2%80%93-ancient-carbon-farming-system-for-earth-healing-in-the-21st-century/)

So I add char-wood / carbon to my soil.  It can't hurt.  :)

Step 5:  Add household compost.  I have a little compost bucket in my kitchen and anytime I have used coffee grounds, banana peels, orange peels, used tea bags, apple cores, dog hair, etc., I throw it in the bucket.  No meat allowed.  When it becomes full, I add it to my compost pile or in this case, I just throw it in the garden.  Yummmmm. 

Step 6:  Rabbit poop.  I have had rabbits for years and years, primarily for the poop the little machines dole out.  It is not "hot" and can be used directly in your garden.  They are an inexpensive animal to keep, quiet and love weeds.  Another plus.  My 2 girls are best buddies, but put them together as babies, adults aren't very tolerant of new comers as a rule. 

Step 7:  Rake some leaves!  We have a LOT of leaves and in this instance, I targeted a live oak who had quite the little leaf party going on under it's branches.  

Step 8: Top Soil is layered thinly on "top".  I buy the cheapest soil I can find and sprinkle it on and then the bed is put to bed until it is ready for me to plant in it.  Sometimes volunteer plants grow from my kitchen compost and I let them be.  Who am I to scoff at free food?

In the meantime, all the future garden ingredients I have will be composted in a pile and when I need to add to the beds to top dress, mulch, etc., I will use that.

Here is the product of my hard work.  I am tempted to plant herbs or flowers in the holes of the cinder blocks. I have not done this yet, but might.

So there you have it.  The Pam Watkins method of starting a garden from scratch.  Enjoy!

My name is Cletus and this is my story

I was born on a farm in TX where my Mom and Dad still live.  About a year later my brother came along, so I was moved to a pasture where I could play with him through the fence and still see my Mom.  It was a good place, very green with cows, dogs, and a ton of birds.  The cows mostly kept to themselves and I don't mind birds, but dogs, not so much. 

My Mom and Dad were getting ready to have another baby.  The farmer and his wife wanted a girl, a jenny, they call the females.  They think they are easier than us jacks.  The farmer's wife saw an ad on Facebook from a woman looking for 2 mini-donkeys and she contacted her.  A meeting was set up for approximately a week later. 

That night the farmer took my brother from my Mom and let him come play with me.  He was still nursing, but if you ask me, at 9 months, he was plenty old enough to quit.  He snuck over by her a lot and nursed through the fence, but it was probably best for her if he stopped since we have another sibling coming.  He needs to grow up sometime.

The lady and her husband came to the farm as planned and I could tell she thought we were the cutest things in the world.  Who wouldn't?  She asked a LOT of questions about our care and they took a tour around the farm and even got to see my Dad and Mom.  Dad was over by the chicken coop because they had a problem with foxes, but after my brother and I left, he was going to move back by Mom.

 

I guess the lady, Pamela was her name, wanted us because the next morning the farmer loaded me and my brother up in the back of the trailer and took us for a ride to her place.  It was scary, but we didn't say anything.  It took about an hour and when we finally got there, I was a little bit more than relieved!

They brought us over to our new pen.  It was pretty big with cedars and oaks and all sorts of green stuff to chew on.  I liked it.  My brother wasn't so sure, but he didn't hate it.  The farmer left and we investigated our new home.

Things were different here than on the farm.  First off, I had always been called JT and Pamela insisted on calling me Cletus.  I had no idea who she was talking to at first.  My brother's name was Jack, and she called him Jethro.  I tried showing her how friendly I was, but I could tell she was a little nervous.  We were, too. 

Pamela came out to see us a lot.  She brought orange colored sticks for us and I didn't know if I was supposed to eat them or what.  She left them on the ground and I figured out pretty quick they were delicious!  I took whatever she offered after that!  Pamela and her husband, JR, spent a good part of their days with us.  I could tell she was getting more comfortable and liking us more and more.  I liked her, too.  I loved licking her, but she would always laugh and push my tongue away.  Jethro was getting much more chummy with her, too.  She took off our halters every night and put them back on in the morning, which I thought was so comfortable, since I had never had mine off before.

We are near 2 rabbits in a big cage who are pretty quiet.  They stare at us sometimes, but mostly ignore us.  There are 3 dogs who come around, too.  I am not a fan, especially the one called Dilbert.  He is so loud and runs at us until he hits the fence.  It always startles me and makes me jump.  The other two dogs are OK.  Barnaby comes into the pen sometimes, but he keeps his distance which is fine with me.  The only times Dilbert has been in the pen is when Pamela has him on a leash and he is still annoying!

After about a week a guy drove up in a truck with a woman.  I didn't quite know what to think of him, but Jethro sensed something because he was acting a bit skittish.  My brother and I got some caramel tasting stuff, it's supposed to get rid of worms if we had any.  I would be happy to take that with or without worms.  It was great! 

The man kept trying to poke me in the neck.  I couldn't figure out why he thought I was going to stand there all still when he was poking me.  He tried and tried and finally the woman who was with him ran around the yard with me a bunch.  They were trying to tire me out, but it wasn't me who was breathing hard.  The man decided to poke me with a needle somewhere else. "What was his deal???"  I started getting really tired and darned if he didn't poke me in the neck again.  Minutes later, I had a seizure, I think that's what they called it.  Pamela yelled something and ran up on her porch, then the man came and gave me ANOTHER shot of something called valium.  It's probably a good thing, because it made my seizure stop.  That's all I remember until I woke up. 

I was feeling pretty good, no pain, but very wobbly. I could tell Pamela was very concerned though because she didn't have her nice face on, it was all scrunched up and she wouldn't take her eyes off me.  The man and the woman left in the truck and Pamela sat with me outside for most of the day.  Jethro wouldn't go near her.  I guess he watched my "seizure" and thought she did it.  He told me later he had to have some shots, too; rabies, tetanus and some horse type shot, so we stay healthy.  I slept a lot that day. 

The next morning I woke up and felt like someone had cut my testicles off!  I was NOT happy and felt horrible!  Jethro kept checking me out and I told him if he didn't stop I was going to kick him in the face.   He said it was so disgusting, he couldn't help himself!  There was a large opening and even though Pamela tried to keep me walking around, it swelled up HUGE.  And then it started to smell.  Pamela called the man and he told her to come get some sulfur pills to help with any infection I might have.

That night I got some funny tasting bananas, but they were still pretty good, so I ate them.  The next few nights I got applesauce on my grain.  That was excellent!  Jethro didn't get any, so I bet Pamela felt bad that I didn't feel good, which is why I got the special treats and he didn't.  Too bad for him!

We get to go on long walks most days.  Pamela takes me with a lead rope and Jethro follows us around.  If we get too far ahead of him, he runs really fast up where we are.

There is some good tasting treats where we walk!  Sometimes I don't want to leave, the greens taste so good, but Pamela said she doesn't want us to get colic from eating too much.  I don't even know what that is.  Like greens would make me sick?  If you ask me, the man made me sick, not greens!

Pamela brushes us and scratches our backs.  She brings us tasty foods and fresh water and hay.  Most days she makes us lift our feet and she cleans out our hooves.  I do NOT like that at all, but I will do it for her.  She does give me a grape after each foot, after all. 

Last week a different man came in a truck.  Once again, Jethro was upset.  I don't know why he was so worried when it was me who had the short end of the stick last time!  This man wanted us to pick up our feet, but when Jethro did, he didn't just pick out the stuff, he cut off part of his hoof and filed it.  Pamela was giving Jethro a lot of grapes and scratching his head, telling him what a good boy he was.  I could tell he hated it, but the guy was quiet and very calm and did his work fast.  It was over quickly.

Then it was my turn.  Uh, I don't think so.  I kicked a little and twisted, but I could tell I wasn't going to get anywhere.  JR tried to hold me still, but I weigh more than him.  It was a little funny. I looked at Pamela and she told me to stay still and it would be over real fast.  She said my feet would feel better, but my feet didn't hurt!  She gave me a grape, so I thought about it for a minute and decided to be good.  I willed that quiet guy to hurry and he was pretty fast.  He wasn't here near as long as the last man and it didn't hurt either.  I hope he stays away though.

We have had different people come see us since being here.  Pamela's daughter, Morgan, and Pamela's sister Brenda and her daughter, Peyton.  They all think we are pretty cool.  What can I say?

Today I got to meet the big white horse next door named Pepper through the fence.  She was such a show off!  She ran past us and kicked up her heels and stopped and blew air out her nose at us.  Jethro was a bit shy, but I walked right up to her and she touched my nose with hers.  She seems like an OK girl.  I hope I see her again. 

I like it here.  I think I will stay.  Jethro told me he likes it here, too.