Sodden and Mired!

Late last week, the sky opened up and dumped one quarter of a million gallons of water on our little farm. Rest assured that it came down slowly and gently over a number of hours but it came just the same. The roof and gutters dutifully routed it away from the foundations and the sandy soil quickly drained it away to somewhere beneath the surface.

I watched the rain from the front window, thinking to myself that it would be good for the vegetable and wildflower gardens. It gave me a good excuse to remain indoors for the evening and I worked on house projects instead. Little did I know that we were getting much more water than we needed.

After the storms had finally passed, I took a walk to survey the results. The wheel barrow had been left out and accumulated an impressive amount of water. It was at least six inches deep. I turned it over, releasing all of those gallons to soak into the yard and join up with the rest of the water somewhere below.

My inspection tour moved on to the gardens. The wildflower garden had only been seeded a few days earlier and had yet to sprout. I found myself peering at the heavily washed sand and wondering if all of those expensive seeds from the wildflower mixes had been washed away. A repeat inspection a few days later revealed that small seedlings were in fact coming up all over the place and everything seems to be fine.

The vegetable garden looked none the worse for wear but looks can be deceiving. After standing at the edge of the garden I decided to walk into the middle to have a closer look. Stepping off of the sod into the saturated soil, I found myself half-way up to my knees in sandy mud that was exactly the consistency of pudding! Seeing the potential for doing irreparable damage to my long-suffering seedlings, I quickly retreated to the solid safety of the untilled yard.

A couple of days later, Sean came home and asked to have a friend over to camp out on the farm for his thirteenth birthday. The boys selected a spot for the tent between the double rows of evergreens that crown a low ridge in our front pasture. Due to the high weeds, they asked if I could mow the area before they started setting up.

We hooked the bush hog to the tractor and I mowed a path through the high weeds to their selected spot. I carefully maneuvered my way through the trees and must say that I did a mighty fine job of prettying the area up for their camp. The job being accomplished, I began the drive back to our side yard where I customarily park the tractor.

Had I gone directly to that spot and quit for the day this tale would have a very different end. Instead, I emerged from the trees into the front field and surveyed the high weeds with the thought that I could quickly mow it as well while I was at it. I swung the tractor along the treeline and began mowing the edge of the field.

As I was rounding the far end of the field the tractor suddenly stopped moving forward. Looking down, I saw that it had sunken to the axles in mud! It took only a few minutes of attempting to back out of the mess to convince me that there was no hope of freeing it.

The transmission casing between the rear wheels was resting on the ground and preventing the big tires from getting any purchase on the muck. I walked back to the house all the while shaking my head at myself that I had not thought about all of that water that had saturated the ground only a few days before. This is not the first time that I have gotten the tractor stuck but it is certainly the worst.

I figure that I'll give it a week to dry out before giving it another try. Until then, there's no shortage of other things to do.

Mysterious Tracks!

A few nights ago the quiet of our home was suddenly shattered by an eruption of barking from the front room. The children had just gone to bed and I was in the back of the house having a conversation with Janet. Aidan came running down the hall with alarm in his voice telling me the obvious fact that "The dogs are barking!!" The commotion even stirred Freya from her bed who came out to follow me down the hall to see what was going on.

In our old house in Ypsilanti, the barking of the dogs was a nuisance noise that elicited little more reaction from the rest of the family than a half-hearted scolding to "Be Quiet!" from elsewhere in the house. The world outside our home was a busy place with families walking their dogs and mailmen cutting through the yard on the way to our porch. Finn and Sirona would spend much of their time gazing out the front window or "dog television" and rarely let anyone pass by without a giving out a bark or two.

Life on the farm is another situation entirely. The dogs still look out of the window but the green world outside rarely presents anything worthy of comment. Occasionally Finn will alert us to the passing of our little deer herd but usually his barking is an indication that somebody is coming up the driveway.

On this particular evening, his barking was especially insistent. I looked out the front window but saw no cars nor people. With Freya cautiously in tow, I walked out into the front yard and shined a flashlight into the dark. In the hope of stirring some movement and probably a tiny bit to settle my own nerves, I shouted a warning "Hah!". After a few more minutes of looking around, I concluded that whatever had peaked Finn's interest had moved on. We returned to the house and our evening went on as before.

Around two-o-clock in the morning, we were again disturbed by frantic barking from the living room. As far as I know nobody else stirred but I rocketed out of bed to investigate. This time I found Finn standing at the back window barking and growling excitedly. I grabbed a flashlight and a dog leash and we headed out to have a closer look.

Immediately upon passing through the doorway into the cool night air, Finn puffed himself up with all of the hairs on his back and neck bristling. Clearly on the trail of something, he sniffed the air and pulled on his lead. We raced across the yard toward the chicken coop while I encouraged him to "show me what's out here boy!".

We searched around coop, we headed a little way into the woods and we circled the house. All the while Finn sniffed excitedly at everything. In the end we failed to track down or scare up anything. I found myself wishing that he could talk and could tell me what it was that he was smelling.

The next morning, I was going through my usual chicken-feeding routine before heading off to work. I had pretty much forgotten about the adventure of the previous night until I approached our shed in the backyard. I found that our nocturnal visitor had chewed a big hole in a fifty pound bag of chicken feed and had spilled much of the contents on the shed floor. I moved the remaining feed into a trashcan as I should have done from the start and cleaned up the mess.

At the end of the day, Aidan and I were working on the garden when we discovered a couple sets of tracks in the mud near the shed. I retrieved one of our field guides to animal tracks and we sat down to determine the identity of our visitor. Right away I could see that two very different animals had been there.

One set of tracks were easy to identify as raccoon. This was pretty much what I had expected since neighbors had been warning me that the raccoons could be a nuisance. The second set of tracks, however, proved to be a bigger identification challenge.

The field guide that I was using was meant to cover the eastern half of the country so I knew it would include some animals that didn't live in our area. As I scanned back and forth through the pages, one particular animal stood out as the best match for the tracks. I would look at the track and tell myself that it was the best match but that it had to be something else.

I methodically worked from one animal to the next and made certain that there were no other matches. It was too big for a skunk. It had too many toes to be a fox or large cat. The clear separation of the toes from the central pads and the close placement of toes ruled out raccoon. The deep claw marks ruled out a number of other possibilities.

In the end I had no option left but to return to the original track that seemed improbable, that of the badger. Unsure if it was even possible, I consulted the Michigan Department of Natural Resources website. To my surprise, it told me that badgers are indeed in our area although they are rare.

Weighing all that I have seen, I have concluded that the raccoon was the culprit who was disturbing our sleep. A little more observation around our home led me to the discovery that an old bird-feeder had been knocked off of the deck railing just outside of our back sliding door. I imagine that he was after the bird seed inside and the resulting crash alerted Finn to his presence.

Thanks to the racoon's clumsiness, Finn and I had a few minutes of adventure during the night. More importantly, he raised our level of curiosity and observation of our surroundings which led directly to the discovery of our more rare visitor, the badger.

Daily Routine

We have not had any more losses since Sean and I fortified the coop. All of our efforts of late have been put into the garden and the coop remains a bit of an eyesore due to its less-than half-built nature. Despite this, it has been holding up well to the rainy weather and nightly probes by predators.

The birds have settled in well to their new routine. At sunset each evening I head out to bed them down with a pail of mixed feed and scratch in hand. As I approach the chicken-yard gate, I always call out saying "chick...chick...chick" to let them know that I am coming. During the day this call will bring them running from all directions to gather excitedly at my feet. In the late evening they will have already gathered indoors. Rather than venturing out, they simply answer my call with squawks and clucks.

Unfortunately they have picked the corner behind the door as their favorite site for their nightly pile-up. It is amazing how tiny of a space twenty one chickens can cram themselves into. While it is inconvenient to get through the door when they are packed so tightly behind it, I can't really complain all that much since I have yet to equip the coop with proper roosts. I actually went to the store a few days ago to pick up the recommended two-inch dowels but upon seeing the price they were asking, I told myself that I would find a way to make something more economical.

After scooping the wood chips away in a few spots, I pour the feed out on the floor. This brings them out of the corner and makes them easier to count. After making sure that they are all present, I leave them to their dinner closing them in securely behind the coop door.

In the morning the routine is similar. I lay out their breakfast outside while they excitedly gibber and squawk to be let out. Once the door is finally open they come charging out in an exuberant race to be the first at the buffet.

The rest of the day the chickens require no attention at all. They wander through the tall weeds in search of bugs, they nibble at plants, they take long luxurious dust baths and stretch, flap and run to their heart's content. From my vantage point as their chef, handmaid and butler, I have to say that they've got a pretty good life.

A Calendar Laid Out In Dirt

The past weekend was dedicated pretty exclusively to planting. Sean, Aidan and I started at the south end of the garden and worked our way north all weekend. I'm not sure how many hours were expended other than to say that it was many.

I started by going to the farm calendar on our website and looking through the months to find all the items that we would have already planted had we not been so behind schedule. We worked our way forward, starting with the peas that were scheduled for March 20th. Those we planted in the first row and then worked our way chronologically through the calendar and across the garden. As of late last night we had worked our way forward to May 2nd which meant that all of the beans (lima, black, Jacob's cattle, wax and pole beans) finally were poked into the waiting soil. In all, 29 varieties of vegetables were planted or transplanted from where they have been growing under lights indoors and about one third of the garden was used up.

It was a very satisfying feeling to straighten my back and look across the garden to see the work we had accomplished. Of course, I realize that having our schedule so far out of whack means that some things will not turn out all that well. I anticipate that a couple of the cold-weather crops at the southern end of the garden will bolt in protest of the hot summer weather. As well, some of the long season crops may not have enough time to make it to maturity before the frosts come in the fall. Some of my co-workers have mentioned that their gardens were all severely damaged by a late frost at the end of May so I may accidentally come out ahead.

Sunset last night found me poking the last of the pole bean seeds into the ground. As the light shifted from yellow to red, the thunderstorm that had been threatening all evening finally arrived. The roiling clouds in the last rays of the day made a dramatic display overhead that was quickly followed by an impressive lightning show and torrents of rain. I ended up getting caught for the worst of it while ushering the chickens into the coop for the night.

We rode out the storm together in dry comfort beneath the temporary roof. I sat on the floor in the dry wood shavings enjoying the rest for my tired muscles. I sat with a satisfied smile on my face as I listened to the thunder overhead and watched the chickens all about me busily pecking at their dinner. It was a golden moment. It just doesn't get much better than that!

First Thing Planted In The Garden?.....Eggs!

Two evenings ago, Sean, Freya and I headed out to the coop to put the chickens in for the night. I had asked them to join me in preparation for an upcoming evening when I would not be home. I wanted to show them how to round up all of the flock and get them safely closed indoors before dark for fear of predators.





This is an easy task for the bulk of the birds as simple bribery with a little chicken feed is very effective. Unfortunately, there are always a few stragglers who seem to prefer taking their chances with the coyotes. If you make the mistake of trying to grab them, they will happily lead you on a wild chicken-chase that will leave you flustered and empty-handed. I have found that the best remedy is to patiently wait by the coop door until the desire to be in the evening pileup with the rest of the flock overrides their thoughts of freedom and independence. One by one they eventually poke their heads around the corner and cautiously make their way to the door to be let in.





Having completed the task, we closed the gate and started walking around the end of the newly plowed garden and toward the house. Glancing at the soil in the sunset gloom, my mind registered that something seemed out of place. There was a large dark patch in the otherwise dried out soil just a few feet from the edge of the garden. We walked over to the spot and found a very large snapping turtle partially dug into the dirt. It had a shell that had to be at least 17 inches in diameter.





After the initial excitement, we retrieved one of our field guides to verify the species. The book said that the female turtles would leave their watery haunts in June and lay their eggs in sandy soil. We let her go about her business undisturbed and resolved to mark the spot with stakes so that we wouldn't harm the eggs. According to the book, she will have laid between 10 and 96 eggs about six inches beneath the surface. They will remain there until hatching in 55 to 125 days.





It would be amazing to see them dig their way out of the soil but I suppose our chances of being there to see it are slim. In any case, she added a little excitement to our evening and served as a reminder of the wild animals that share our farm as well.

"Fort Fowl"

Here is a picture of the coop as it appears today. The northern half is walled in to protect the chickens from predators during the night. The plywood has been covered with house-wrap to avoid damage from the rain and the roof trusses are covered temporarily with a blue tarp.

We had talked about trying to match the styling of the house when building the coop. I just occurred to me that I'm carrying that idea a little too far as both the house and the coop now have nice blue tarp roofs! Airplane pilots must be wondering what kind of goat rodeo we are running down here.

More Work For The Tractor

Over the past few days, I have been using the tractor to get a few more tasks completed. The driveway has been plagued with potholes since before we bought the farm. With the warm spring rains those potholes became huge and filled with water. I felt embarrassed any time somebody came to visit as they slowly bounced and jostled their way up to the house.

When things were particularly desperate, the children and I spent a couple of afternoons loading the wheelbarrow with small rocks and attempting to fill the holes. Our efforts resulted in small improvements but most of the rocks we deposited ended up getting shifted to the sides as our car tires worked their way back down into the muddy mess.

This problem was on our mind when we went tractor shopping. We wanted to be sure to purchase something to help us restore and maintain the driveway. In the end we bought a 6' box blade (fourth photo down).

The box blade has six adjustable teeth that loosen up the gravel as it is pulled along. The loosened gravel accumulates in the box and is graded smooth by the blade on the lower back edge of the box. I made about a half-dozen passes up and down the drive with this implement and it left the drive smooth and the previously packed-down gravel loose and soft.

The second task for the tractor was getting the garden soil ready for planting. I had already plowed it up a few days ago but unfortunately left a few grassy patches. I decided that I would have to turn it a second time to be sure that we wouldn't be attempting to plant portions of the garden in sod and then spending all summer searching through tall grass to find our crops.

The surface of the garden was still very rough from the large furrows the plow had left. Before plowing a second time, I decided to use the disc harrow to cut up the large chunks and smooth it back out. After backing the tractor up to the disc, I found that it was equipped with the wrong size of draw pins to mate up with the lower arms of the three-point hitch. I ran out to Tractor Supply and bought smaller pins, removed the old rusty ones with a grinder and installed shiny new pins.

The disc harrow (two pictures below the box blade) made quick work of reducing the clods. Then I hooked up the plow set again and turned the entire garden once more. The second try at plowing was so much easier. By the end I really felt that I had gotten the hang of it and the resulting garden was uniformly turned.

I finished up the task by passing the disc set back over the whole area and then dragging the spring-tooth harrow (pictured below the disc harrow) across the soil to smooth the final high spots down. The soil is now fully broken up and very soft. I will have to do a bit of raking to remove small clumps of broken up sod that are still on the surface but otherwise it is ready for seeding.

Nevermind the fact that this task should have been done long ago, I'm still having fun and have decided that we are just going to do the best that we can for this first year. As long as each year brings some improvement over the last, I'll consider myself successful. As things are going, I'm ensuring myself many years of satisfaction by leaving lots of room for improvement!

Something Is Eating The Chickens!

Sunday morning dawned cool and beautiful. Sean and I talked about the possibilities for the day over breakfast trying to decide which of the many projects that we have going would be the best use of our time. Sean asked if he could feed the chickens before we started so we headed out to the coop to check on them.

The chickens always come running from all directions when they see us approaching. They crowd the fence like adoring fans and welcome us with excited peeps and whistles. I remarked to Sean that the flock seemed a little smaller than usual as we passed through the gate and began the slow walk to the coop as the milling chickens did their best to position themselves directly in the path of each footfall.

As Sean fed the hungry birds we attempted the difficult task of counting them. It is difficult because they are continuously moving about and jockeying for a choice bit of ground at which to peck. After coming up with a number of different results we finally concluded that the correct number was twenty-one, a sum that was two birds less than it should have been!

We begun looking around the chicken yard, searching for the missing birds. We were sure that they would not have been able to resist coming back to the coop for breakfast. I walked along the fence trying to spot anywhere that a predator could have entered but found none.

In the far corner, I came upon the remains of one of the birds. It had been killed and half eaten by something that was strong enough to crunch right through the bones. What was left was the lower half of the chicken with the spine and ribcage cleanly chewed through. A while later we located a single leg from the other poor bird. Clearly something big and hungry had been dining in the coop during the night.

Since there was no sign of digging, the perpetrator had either climbed or jumped over the fence. My bet was that it had been a raccoon. My neighbors opined that a coyote could clear the 4 1/2 foot fence as well. Whatever it was, it was obvious to Sean and I that our day would now be spent improving the security of the coop to prevent further losses to the toothsome visitor from out of the dark.

The chickens had been housed on the previous night in the unfinished coop surrounded by a second run of chicken wire. Since this type of fencing was not doing the trick, we resolved to completely wall in one half of the coop so we could close them safely inside. We joked that we were on a mission to fortify "Fort Fowl" in preparation for the attack from the enemy that would surely come again as soon as the sun went down.

We headed off to purchase twenty sheets of plywood and then spent the rest of the day walling in the northern half of the coop. It was exciting the see the room coming together. We completed it by installing one of the doors that I picked up from a reuse center. At sunset we placed our feathered charges in their new home and closed them in.

It was a school night so Sean had to turn in. I continued until midnight tacking up chicken wire across the large window openings. I was unsure if the predator could climb all of the way up to those windows but I was in no mood to take any chances.

On my way out to work this morning, I stopped by the coop and let the birds out for the day. They were all present and accounted for and none the worse for wear. As long as our bold chicken stealer doesn't get so hungry as to risk an attack by daylight we should be able to prevent further casualties.

Trusses

The coop project has moved along to the point that I needed to start thinking about the roof. My design hadn't moved beyond laying out the walls and they had recently been framed in. For a little while I entertained the idea of putting off the roof and just continuing to finish the walls but a few days of rain convinced me that all of our work was going to get ruined if I didn't do something about getting it covered.


My first question in designing the roof was what sort of pitch should be used. I searched around the web for recommended pitches to handle the significant weight of snow that can build up during our Michigan winters. Unfortunately, I was not able to find the information that I wanted so I simply settled on a 6/12 pitch.


I drew up the trusses on the computer and bought all of the supplies. We had some friends over last weekend who were willing to lend a hand so we pulled out the mitre saw and the mending plates and gave it a whirl. Joe and I measured the angles on the drawing, adjusted the saw and made the cuts in the hope that it would turn out as planned. To our surprise, the pieces of the puzzle fit together very well and we began turning out truss after truss.

I now have half trusses mounted on the coop and securely covered with a tarp. I am still shopping around for reasonably priced sheet metal to cover it. In the mean time, it is very satisfying to stand in that half of the coop during a rain storm and watch the rain pour off either side leaving the coop high and dry beneath.