Monday, December 12, 2016

Lately every time I talk to friends or family I get asked "what have you been up to lately?" I could answer this a number of ways, since I'm currently looking for a job I could bore them with all the job postings I'm either lacking a nursing degree for or am so over qualified for its painful, but its depressingly boring for me and seems cruel for the listener so I don't. I could talk about how we are on day 146 since the goats and sheep when to good friend Amanda's house to meet her lovely gentlemen and do the deed. Many of you know Shasta had complications and unfortunately lost her babies, This makes me worry about the other girls pregnancies. Shasta is feeling much better and is back to her sassy self. She will be headed back to see nice young buck named Lucky as soon as we can coordinate our schedules. I asked Shasta and she's ok with waiting until its not raining. For those who don't know goats take a dim view of rain. The rain might help grow things goats like to eat and provide water for them but as far as they're concerned its acid falling from the sky meant to kill them and make their lives miserable. Most goats won't step foot in it, I'd like to think my girls are willing to brave it to see me because they love me but its probably the grain I show up with, well and maybe the love too. Sheep don't care about rain, I'm not sure they notice weather at all.

Back to the impending motherhood, Matilda the sheep and Lily the bitch, I mean goat. Gestation is about 145 days plus or minus 5 days each way. Now goats and sheep have been having giving birth and raising babies since the dawn of time without the help of us monkeys but I'd like to be on hand just in case. Plus who doesn't want to see cute baby animals try to stand for the first time?

There are some tell tail signs of impending labor. Their udders start to "bag up" which is what is called when they fill up with milk, this can happen anywhere from hours after birth to weeks before. Their lady parts get bigger, swollen looking, and redder, again this can happen anywhere from hours to weeks before labor. Their bellies will drop as the kids and lambs get into position to be born. The ligaments that run alongside their tails will become soft and then disappear. There's this thing called a mucous plug, I won't describe it only that I'm anxiously awaiting its arrival because it'll mean active labor is next. Every time I'm outside I check on them for mucous plugs, swelling and redness, state of the ligaments. When I'm picking up duck eggs at 6:00 am, feeding ducks and chickens, 9:00 am, Feeding sheep and goats hay 11:00 am, letting them out for exercise/play/mug rabbits for their food 1:00-3:00 pm, feeding rabbits and collecting chicken eggs 4:00 pm, and feeding goats and sheep grain 6:00 pm.

When I'm not checking on them I'm reading everyone's opinions on signs of impending motherhood and what to do if complications arise. When I'm taking a break from reading about it I'm watching videos of people, with their hands in places it is not polite to talk about at the dinner table, untangle triplets and getting them all delivered safely. These videos are very gooey and not for the feint of heart. They all end the same way though, with an adorable baby laying in straw shaking her head while mother licks her dry.

So I could tell everyone: I follow my sheep and goats around staring at their lady parts, comparing them to pictures from a few days ago to see if they're different. I interrogate them as to when I might be needed so I can relax a little and stop dreaming about missing the whole thing or nightmares of everything going wrong. To ease my anxiety I'm watching gross videos on the miracle of life and rechecking my lambing kit.

Instead I settle on "Just doing the ranch stuff. Girls are due soon, can't wait to see the babies!"

Thursday, March 10, 2016

The Utility Plant Arrives at the Ranch

We finally got active in the comfrey game.  If you're not familiar with it, the Internet is full of descriptions of its importance as a addition to anyone interested in growing their own food/herbs or regenerative agriculture.
Comfrey is a versitile plant used for everything from medicinal poultices to dynamic accumulators in the garden. It grows well from just root cuttings and can adapt to many soil types and environments.  
Comfrey is strong growing and deep-rooted, having no problem propagating itself as allowed.  Most homesteaders utilize comfrey to help build soil through cutting back growth, allowing the chopped leaves to decompose and release their gathered nutrients back into the surrounding soil.  
Pollinating insects love the small flower clusters it produces.  Comfrey is also a great treat for your chickens and rabbits. These plants can be halved every two years.  This lets you perpetuate this phenomenal plant all over your property after starting out with just a few.  We got our thirteen root cuttings from Marsh Creek Farmstead in Brentwood, CA.  Check them out online as well as our own site and Facebook page.  We'll be sure to post updates as we get further along in our maiden voyage with Symphytum uplanicum!

Monday, February 29, 2016

Spring Has Sprung, Early

Wow, winter is basically gone and time for new growth is already upon the ranch.  Our fruit trees have all awakened from their slumber and putting on new buds and flowers.  
We managed to finish the construction of our five new 4x8 planting beds for our annual vegetables and are just awaiting our delivery of five tons of premium topsoil.  Look forward to joining us on our journey of homegrown eats in 2016!  Make sure to come see us on Facebook or at  Cheers!

Saturday, September 12, 2015

Fire Season

   As I type this post, yet another wildfire rages through Lake County.  The latest, named the Valley Fire, has consumed just over 25,000 acres across the areas of Cobb Mountain, Hidden Valley Lake and near Middletown.  We lived in Hidden Valley Lake for two years prior to purchasing the ranch and still have friends who live there.  It's heartbreaking to think about what these folks are going through, a rushed mandatory evacuation, fearing their homes may not survive the inferno, some having to turn their animals lose and hope they can make it on their own.  To think a month ago, we faced the same uncertainty.  The only difference being, we had a few days to get our potential evacuation in place.
   I only hope many of these displaced families were able to cobble together the most meager of preparedness items which with to evacuate.  Based on the fires they witnessed just weeks prior, I'm sure many thought it may just be a matter of time before disaster turns their way.  Sadly, I know many are not prepared for this type of life altering scenario.  If there turns out to be anyway we are able to help these folks with some of the ways we've prepped - we'll be happy to do so.

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

There's a new Beast in Town.

It's 5 am, I went to sleep four hours ago. Boogy Beast woke me up. Well I should say that one of my chickens impersonating Henrietta Chicken (the dog toy, squeeze one and you'll understand) woke me up. Being that I've had 4 hour of sleep I thought one of my lambs was in trouble until I heard the choir from the ducks.
Being the prepared person I am with lightning fast problem solving skills and ninja moves I didn't turn on a light. I jumped out of bed grabbed my flannel sleep shorts, tried to put both legs in one hole, fell down, tripped over two dogs and one cat all rushing through the door out of the bedroom. Spencer was certain if he kept up he would be going with me, Gus was following Spencer, and I'm not sure which cat got kicked, like I said didn't turn on the light. Sorry cat. Jammed my feet in my slip on shoes, which for once were by the door I needed them to be, grabbed the LED rechargeable Costco flash light the kind that will blind you if you look into it, and hurled myself with no pets through my back door. Ha! I made it just in time to see glowing eyes of Beasty, couldn't see the rest of it. Knew it was small enough that being armed only with a six inch plastic very bright flashlight would only be a problem if Beasty was rabid, unlikely. Gave chase but was easily lost by its stealthy moves. I almost tripped over victim, black chicken, it wasn't moving so I didn't stop. Searched for Beasty so I could throw rocks and curse it, .22 is in the house and not with me, 5 am brain is an awesome thinker. Since I couldn't find where Beasty had got to or figure out: house cat, wild cat, raccoon, fox, skunk, or new creature I went back to clean up. 
I checked the coop and did a head count, only missing black chicken laying motionless on ground. I checked everyone else, not happy to be woken up but alive with all their parts attached. When back to lump of black chicken on ground. 
I have eczema on my hands, I have a ointment I wear at night with cotton gloves and rubber gloves over those, super sexy I know. Since I'm
Already gloved up I can examine my victim for signs of what killed her. I see she still has her head which means I doubt raccoon, they usually horribly disfigure things they take plus Beasty didn't look big enough. I couldn't see any blood or wounds so I went to flip Blackie over. Blackie had other ideas and sprang to life, I nearly wet my pants. Lazarus then blindly made a break for cover. I followed talking to her to calm us both down and get close enough to grab her without falling in the dirt and embarrassing myself in front of the sheep. Blackie made it into the rabbit barn and wedged herself under some cages. After prying her out and examining her all over, she appeared to be only stunned and missing feathers so I popped her back in the coop. One last look around and I came back inside were in trying relax enough to go back to sleep for two more hours before my day starts. Again. 
Black chicken will be known as Heneretta from now on. 

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Never Judge a Book by it's Cover, Except Sometimes

The golden rule in my barn is three strikes you're out!

Here's how it works, everyone is entitled to make mistakes or have a bad day. You behave in a way that is a detriment to the progress of the ranch I'll give you a break twice. Third time and you're done. Raising sweet, well mannered Mini Rex doesn't make for a lot of opportunities to enforce this, thankfully.

Examples of being a detriment:
Does (female rabbit) that don't give birth in their nest boxes, stomp their babies, don't produce milk or generally fails at motherhood could pass that on to their babies and that's if you can get a litter to survive in the first place.
Rabbits that bite me, or make serious attempts to, make it hard or dangerous for me to work in their cage or handle them. Think a bite from a rabbit can't be that bad? Try it and get back to me. Pregnant and nursing moms get a pass, protecting their babies - being hormonal and all. Do it all the time though and we'll have a problem.
Rabbits that abuse each other while breeding do not last long either. My girls aren't into ruff stuff, I also don't allow them to beat up the boys. It's not nice and it can lead to a full blown fight where I could be injured as well.
Bucks (male rabbit) that spray all the time. Nothing is as awesome as being sprayed in the face by a buck (not), You should try it sometime...

There are some exceptions or extra passes. So each case gets a mini trial and judgment passed.

I had a issue come up that falls into a strange category all its own. I purchased a brood Red Eyed White (albino) doe about 6 months ago and have gotten two litters out of her. For her first litter I bred her to a Broken Black buck. The resulting litter wasn't anything to write home about, I got: a Broken Castor, Broken Black and a Tortoise.

For those who don't raise rabbits, Broken means white with another color, most often heard at the fair is "Oh that one looks like a Dalmatian!" You get the idea. Please stop here and make all the jokes about broken you can but please keep them to yourself. Trust me, I've heard all of them before. "Well if it's broken why don't you fix it!" Harharhar, sigh.
Black is black, really.
Caster color is most commonly described as wild rabbit color or sometimes mahogany. It's a beautiful color that is achieved by each hair shaft having three different colored bands, however if the bands are not properly proportioned, the effect is ruined.
Tortoise, usually called Tort for short, is described as bright, rich, clean orange with shaded eyes, ears, feet, tail, nose, flanks, and belly. Sort of like a Siamese cat. The only acceptable colored Tort in Mini Rex is Black.

Back to the litter. The Broken Black was eh, I had a least three others in different litters that were better. The Tort ended up having Chocolate points instead of the accepted Black and therefore was not showable. The Broken Caster's rings were not balanced properly which would have gotten her disqualified on a show table.  While normally a beautiful color, it's not a color I personally breed for. While this was a bit of an odd ball litter I didn't think much of it at the time. Not every pairing works out to show stopping winners. I bred the doe again, this time to a beautiful Otter Lilac buck who is on loan from a good friend.

An albino is the result of two recessive genes coming together making the animal turn all white usually with red eyes. This doe could be any color genetically but you can't see it because the recessive gene hides it. From her pedigree you can make a very educated guess. I gathered from her pedigree that she is quit likely a Black. I'm that kid from biology class that no one liked because I thought the gene portion of class was fascinating and easy. Sorry guys! I'll try to not turn this into a crash course of genetics. When you breed an Otter Lilac to a Black here is what you SHOULD get: Black, Blue, Chocolate, Lilac, Otter Black, Otter Blue, Otter Chocolate, and Otter Lilac. Then there is what you CAN get: Tortoise (Black, Blue, Chocolate, Lilac) and Red Eyed White. Lastly what you should NOT EVER get: Caster, Chocolate Agouti, Opal, Lynx, Chinchilla, Seal, Himalayan, Sable, Sable Point, Red, and Blue Eyed White.

What did I get? Six Casters. This means that under that Red Eyed White, that doe is in fact a Caster.  This also means her pedigree is incorrect because it just isn't possible to get a Caster from her background. But wait there's more. Unfortunately due to the heat wave here three of the six babies died. Of the three that are left, two are a bit strange.
Here is the normal looking baby from the litter:

There there is the one that is having the worst hair day/life ever:

It's hard to get a picture of the strange almost downy like longer hair that covers most of this little guy, it's not something I've seen before.
And here is the last one, Can you find the weird thing?
When you see it...
Yeah one ear is half the size of the other.  I've never ever (and I mean ever) seen this before. I know some people will be thinking "OH! But it's so cute, like a bunny Nemo!" While it may look cute, it can't stay. Rabbits ears are their AC systems.  This guy's cute little imperfection could have life threatening implications. This one has to go - this means mom has to go, too. I don't need these genes in my barn and I won't let it go to someone else's barn. This is a case of what's on the inside counts, too!

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

They don't browse, they graze...

     We'd seen them for several evenings in a row.  Deer.  Just a few, a mom and her fawns - picking their way carefully down the hill though the brush until reaching the bottom, feasting on fresh green shoots of grass.  With many square miles of Bureau of Land Management, or BLM, land behind us, our partially unfenced acre was a highway for all sorts of critters wandering from off the hills to the rest of the rural valley we reside in.  The deer are common visitors and usually not a nuisance unless you plan on growing fruit and nuts trees, along with various berries and a handful of raised beds used for annual veggies - then yes, the deer could be considered a pest.
     The majority of our $450 early spring bare-root plant order was already in the ground.  With the warmer weather just around the corner, I knew our young trees would soon bud out and become like sticks of cotton candy to our four-legged friends unless we finished the 6' tall wire fence across the back of the property.  My alternative was to place individual hoops of 3' tall 2"x4" wire fencing around each new tree and bush.  I told myself several times the later was not an option.  I had already constructed a fenced chicken yard to contain our once free ranging fowl from tearing up the 6" layers of straw mulch I'd placed around each plant.  All would be safe to grow unadulterated if we just finished the damn fence.  My priority of chores at the ranch became laser focused.  I told my matrimonial ranch-mate our next day off would be devoted to kicking this fence's ass and getting it done!   A few days later, after the proverbial blood, sweat and tears - a few threats of divorce and worried looks from the dogs - the fence was done.
     We had contemplated the hill that takes up the back third of our acre when purchasing our little ranch just over a year ago.  What the hell would we do with it?  I could imagine the kids racing up and down it - building forts and tree houses among the mature oaks.  We made plans of repairing and replanting the south-facing hillside, scorched and barren from years of neglect.  My wife and I both thought the hill added character.  We didn't have a boring, flat parcel of land, ours came with a hill.  The best part was the top of the hill acted as a gateway to another five acre parcel we set our way future sights on.
View from the top of  the hill towards the south of the valley
     A few weeks after finishing the fence, I walked the property with a cup of morning coffee, inspecting the plants and smiling at the new leaves and buds on what were basically expensive sticks a month ago.  I stood at the top of the hill and gazed down upon my tiny dominion.  Our dreams of running a homestead was secure behind the fence and the dogs could roam their territory without the temptation of wandering off.  I reached down and scratched on Spencer, our six year old German Shepard.  I brushed some fox tail points and various stickers from his Teflon-like coat.  I slowly looked around and noticed all the thistles popping up in swarming clumps like the zombie hoard at Hershel's farmhouse (The Walking Dead spoiler alert - that didn't turn out too well).  Then it hit me... How am I going to maintain all of this vegetation on the hill?  Running a mower across the front yard and the flat part of the back was no problem for an old lawn-boy like myself, but the steep slopes of our little hill?  The daunting task of swinging a Weed Eater side to side for hours on end was not one I wanted any part of.  Not to mention the tingling numbness it left in my hands and forearms for hours after I was done left me shaking my head.  People who were aware of our topography would often ask, "Why don't you guys get some goats?  You love goats and they'll eat all of those weeds and stuff, no problem!"  Yes, I love goats (insert Ace Ventura's line of "If it's cold enough" here).  Goats are fantastic at weed abatement and hundreds of professional flocks are employed all over California each spring and summer to help cut the danger of wild fires.  Here's the thing, goats do such a great job because they don't care.  They're the cat of the ruminant world.  They don't give a crap about any of your stuff and will stare at you while devouring your heirloom rose bush you inherited from your grandma.   I remembered my wife mentioning sheep...
Tango standing behind his brother Cash
     She was ecstatic.  "Yes! They don't browse, they graze!  And they'll do every bit as good as a goat with keeping the growth down all over the back yard and hill."  A few days later, on Mother's Day (and a few hundred dollars lighter) we brought home young, twin American Black Belly rams, Tango and Cash.   Being hair sheep, they will not have to be sheared and have a great meat value even at two years of age.  Our plan was to let them roam and graze all spring, summer and early fall and keep the better of the two.  This would send the other to our freezer and my illustrious wife's dinner menu.  If all went well, we'd introduce some ewes to the winner of our version of the Hunger Games and grow the 10-04 flock from there.  That was the plan anyway...  Almost immediately, I noticed the "graze, not browse" clause to be completely optional.  While I constructed a simple sheep palace for them, they wined and dined on some of my new plantings.  Making short work of their early growth spurts.    Needless to say I was not happy.  These sheep bamboozled me, lulled me into a false sense of security with their soft bleats and horizontal pupils.  The war was on.  Every time they were out of their pen, I was watching, waiting for them to sneak a nibble of a black locust or sea berry, of a autumn olive or a colossal chestnut.  I chased them, leaping and arms flailing.  I chastised my bride, "Your sheep are destroying our plants."  The whole situation was ridiculous and the thistles were only getting taller.   There was only one thing to do...
Used to be a vibrant Scarlet Goumi berry bush
     Home Depot sells 100' rolls of 3' tall 2"x4" wire fencing for $60.  I figured I needed two rolls to secure the trees and bushed from these very determined villains.  Over the course of a Thursday afternoon, I successfully barricaded the majority of our botanical loved ones from the black and tan beasts.  Accomplishing this also allowed my to take down the chicken pen and allow our flock to again roam and scratch the earth to their hearts content.

     As I finish this maiden voyage into the blogosphere, I received a text from my wife regarding the acquisitions of two ewes, "I got a price of $125 each on the ewes - I'd say that sounds OK."  That's code for - We're getting two ewes for $250.  Looks like I'll be finishing up that individual fence project sooner than I expected.