Valentine Goats: They're in the Mood for Love Simply Because I Said So

After using up the last of my frozen goats milk, I realized that if I ever wanted to have it again I would need to get somebody knocked up. I dried off Lucy at the beginning of December since her production had gone down to a cup and a half per day, which didn't seem worth the effort anymore. She had a great run though. Usually goats stay in milk for 10 months; Lucy went 15.

This time around, I really want to get Ethel preggers. She has failed to settle (conceive) twice now, once with a buck named Flapjack in Lake County and once with Lucy's son, Fred. In order to boost the girls' fertility, I gave them both an injection of BoSe, a selenium and vitamin E cocktail that is said to regulate the lady goat cycles. I then sent them off to Prundale where Fred now resides.

Remember Fred? He is such a manly man now, I hardly recognized him. Isn't he gorgeous? 

Fred is as wily as he has always been, if not more so. For a period of time, he lived with Pam of Peaceful Valley Farm along with his sister, Ginger, but he kept busting out of all the fences. Pam re-homed him to Leslie's little farm in Prunedale, where he continues his escapades of breaking fences and entering places he doesn't belong, like Leslie's house... and in her bed. Nice, Fred. Real nice.

I wanted to give Fred one more go with Ethel as I thought they would make some cute babies together. Ethel has been acting like she has been in heat for about two months straight and as soon as we arrived at the farm, Fred was VERY interested in her. So interested that he didn't even recognize his own mama. Have you ever seen a goat buck woo? The courtship involves a lot of knickering, tongue waggling, and raspberries (a.k.a. the Bronx cheer) being blown all about the doe's face and neck. Here's Fred off to a good start

By the time I left, Fred had given it to her at least 10 times in less than 20 minutes. Poor Ethel was done by that point, as can be seen here

Can't you just hear her crying "Help, get me away from that sex maniac!"? Too bad, lady. You need to make some babies!

While Ethel and Fred get busy, Lucy's intended is this gorgeous white pygmy (possibly a Nigerian cross), Ozzie. Here he is with Leslie. Is he not the most adorable buck you have ever seen?

The hair kills me. I immediately nicknamed him Ozzball.

Well let's hope the girls make some good love connections. We are desperate. I am now having to *gasp* buy milk from the store.

Christmas Cheese

Happy Holidays my lovelies! Again, I must apologize for the lack of posts. I have a slew of happenings that I have been meaning to relate to you, but when it rains, it freakin' pours. For the past month, my nephew has been in the hospital. Last week, he was airlifted from Dallas to Cincinnati, where he is now at the children's hospital receiving excellent care. My daughter and I are flying out there tomorrow to help out and help drive my sister and her three boys back home to Dallas. The stress and uncertainty has been unbelievable, but I have to say, the Ronald McDonald House has been an amazing beacon of light in this mess. For all the crap I have talked about the fast food chain, the foundation has done excellent work for families with sick children in times of crisis by setting them up with a free place to stay, food, activities for kids, and an incredible amount of generosity, kindness, and unconditional love. As an advocate for healthy food, the irony is not lost on me. However, I thought people should know about some of the good work that the RM Foundation does.

I didn't want to let the season pass without sharing something with you all so I thought I would post about my Christmas cheese. Everyone knows how tasty goat chèvre is, but something that you might not be aware of is that the breed of goat can determine the flavor of the milk and cheese. Nigerian Dwarf goats, the breed we keep here, have a milk that is sweeter than the cow's and lacks that twang that we are used to in a good chèvre. In the past, my cheese has come out tasting like a creamy ricotta, lacking that depth of flavor that one looks for in a chèvre. Fortunately, my chef friend Tabitha of Friend in Cheeses Jam Co. gave me a tip of adding a touch of lemon zest. It doesn't replicate the flavor of the classic chèvre, but it increases the zing on the palate. This is also a great way to make chèvre with cow's milk, as the flavor of the milk is similar to the Nigerian Dwarf's. Here's how to do it.

Nigerian Dwarf (or cow) Chèvre

• chèvre culture - available from cheese supply stores. I got mine from Hoegger Goat Supply. I prefer a culture that you can use direct set, rather than creating a mother (like a sourdough culture requires). We don't make enough cheese around here to warrant a mother.
• rennet
• 1 gallon of fresh milk
• lemon zest, I prefer that of the Meyer lemon
• soft cheese molds or cheese cloth

Pour milk into a non-reactive pot and get it to 72 degrees. Add 1/8 tsp. of chèvre culture (or as directed on culture packet) and stir until dissolved and combined. Add 2/5 of a drop of rennet by adding 5 Tbsp. of water to a jar with a drop of rennet and then extracting 2 Tbsp. of the watered down rennet mixture and adding it to the milk. Stir. Now add lemon zest. I only use the zest of half a lemon. This is really a personally taste thing, so feel free to improvise. Let sit covered in a warm place, ideally 72 degrees, for 18-24 hours. At the end of the resting period, you will see that the cheese solids have coagulated into a firm, creamy mass in the center of the pot. You can check for set by pressing gently against the cheese near the edge of the pot with the back of your fingers. The cheese will yield to the pressure and you will see the whey having clearly separated. Pull out your molds and spoon the solids with a slotted spoon, preferably one of those flat ones used for this type of thing, into each mold. This recipe fills up three of these small basket molds. Pace the molds on a deep tray and cover. Allow them to drain for two days. Pouring off whey as needed. I usually let them sit in the refrigerator. You can also use a cheese cloth and hang it to drain. Some people salt their cheese after it has fully drained. I usually add the salt as I am spooning the solids into the molds. This way, I can alternate solids and salt to make sure that it is seasoned throughout. Once you have finished draining and salting the cheese, wrap it up in saran wrap or put in a glass container in the fridge. Serve with your best preserves. For a holiday party, I usually serve the cheese with my tomato jam, pepper jelly, green tomato chutney, and chipotle plum sauce. Delish!

I hope all of you out there are having a wonderful and stress free holiday season. A merry merry and happy happy to each and everyone of you. 

How Embarrassing!

Awhile back, I was interviewed by *fair companies, a website with a ton of awesome videos and resources on sustainable culture. To tell you the truth, I had forgotten all about it until I received an email from the videographer, Kirsten Dirkson. I think we spent less than an hour shooting, which amazes me that they could turn out such a lengthy video with so little footage. What I love most about it is that it has a much more natural feel to it, in contrast to our more highly produced video for the Whole Food's Grow program. But OMG, I am so embarrassed by the state of my disheveled backyard and messy, cluttered refrigerator. And check out those "There's Something about Mary" bangs! I thought I was being so clever with that kerchief, hiding away the bad hair day. Total fail.

I read through some of the comments on YouTube and a common perception amongst viewers is that we keep our goats in a little prison like cell, which makes me so sad. *sigh* I swear to you, our goats have a good life. Yes, sometimes they get cooped up in the pen for too long, but they get access to the rest of the yard and the neighbor's. I have seen pens in the country with just as small of a space as we use for our girls. Don't forget, aside from terrorizing the backyard weeds and rose bushes, they also go for strolls around the neighborhood and canters through beautiful McLaren park.

Itty Bitty at Eat Real

This coming Saturday we will be at the Eat Real Festival with our goats, Lucy and Ethel. We will be there all day in the "Grow" section, so be sure to come over and say hello. I'll also be judging jams and preserves so be sure to enter your famous homemade goods. Categories include honey, homebrewing, infusions and liqueurs, pickles, and preserves. At 2:30 pm on Saturday, Ute and I will be giving a talk/demonstration on raising urban goats. That should be fun. But personally, I can't wait to gorge myself silly on all the scrumptious goodies from the food trucks and vendors. Here are the details:

Overview:
Part state fair, part block party, Eat Real Festival celebrates good fresh delicious food. With a focus on food craft, street food, handcrafted beers and local wines - all featuring sustainable local ingredients – Eat Real showcases food in all its different forms. But eating is only part of the fun - at Eat Real, you learn how to make it and grow it! From cheese to kombucha, there are dozens of demonstrations that highlight a DIY food lifestyle. No cost for entry, all edible treats $5 or less.

Highlights:
• Food for $5 or less
• Cold craft beer
• 25 top food trucks
• 50 food vendors
• 30 craft food vendors
• Hands-on food making workshops including bread baking, cheese making, jam making, pickling, backyard farming and more!
• Bands and DJs

When: Friday September 23^rd from 1:00 p.m. to 8 p.m.

Saturday September 24^th from 11:00 a.m. to 8 p.m.

Sunday September 25^th from 11:00 a.m. to 6 p.m.

Website: http://www.eatrealfest.com/event/Oakland/California/2011
Where: Jack London Square - Oakland, CA
Cost: Free entry!

Funky Skin Update

One of the girls that comes every week to learn farm stuff, Erika, helped me a couple weeks ago wrangle Ethel so that I could take care of the funky skin thing. With a toothbrush, I massaged in a concoction of coconut oil with lavender and tee tree essential oils. All three have anti-fungal and anti-bacterial properties. Worked like a mother fuckin' charm, I tell ya. Her skin is back to normal. No crust of any sort hanging about now. Take that, goat cradle crap!

'Cause I'm convinced that's what it was. Looked exactly like the stuff that my daughter had from infancy well into early childhood. I loved to pick at it too, much to my daughter's chagrin. Usually I'd wait until she fell asleep so that I could have a pick-fest, though she usually roused and brushed away my hands. Sometimes she would talk in her sleep and tell me to "cut it out".

No such luck for dear Ethel. We had her hog tied and on her back for a good 30 minutes. Some of it was real stubborn and I had to get it off with my fingernails. So gross! I also took out the cheesy stuff under her tail, which I think is related to the crusties. Now that was REALLY gross as there were gobs of smegma up in there. Ew, ew, ew!

Well she is all cleaned up now so I'm back to fretting about whether or not she is pregnant. She's about 7 weeks away from her due date and not growing. By this time, she should be fat. And her chichis aren't getting any puffier. I will be devastated if I don't have goat babies by the beginning of September.

Congratulations Ginger!

Remember Lucy's kid, Ginger?

Photo courtesy of Lori Eanes

She had babies! For a month now I have been fretting about her giving birth, being so young and all, and the fact that no question about it, they were her brother's babies. According to my calculations, 150 days from when she left our farm, Ginger should have kidded on May 21st. Well that date came and went and Ginger continued to be a walking giant belly, as per news via Pam, Ginger's new owner. As the days passed, I became more and more concerned, especially after she had gone over 160 days. No one has ever heard of a goat going past 160 days.

Poor Pam, I emailed her every couple of days demanding to know where the babies were, quizzing her on Ginger's health, and pawning off all my anxieties by asking a million questions about her preparations for the impending kidding. You would think that Ginger was still my goat! Obviously, I continue to struggle with letting go. Ginger and Fred were Itty Bitty's first kids and I will always have a very special place in my heart for those two.

Finally, at day 170, after being in labor for three days, Ginger gave birth to a boy and girl. Do you know what that means? The chastity chonies worked! Ginger must have gotten pregnant during her next heat cycle after she left Itty Bitty. 170 days is an impossibility. Lesson learned? Never underestimate the power of a good pair of underwear.

To read all about the birth and see pictures, go to Peaceful Valley Farm Blog. I am so happy for Pam and Ginger. The kids are terribly cute. One of the babies looks exactly like her grandma.

What about Fred? I hear tell that he is being housed with Pam's new pig. Apparently, Fred attempts to headbutt the pig and the pig just plows him over like a bulldozer. I think they are making great friends. They already like the same games.

Name That Funky Skin Condition

Alright kids, have at it. I have no idea what this is. It's not scabby and no hair falls off, which is why I don't think it's rain rot or staph. Like I mentioned before, it's exactly like cradle cap. And it's all over her belly. Lucy has a little bit of it on the top of her udder, but nothing like Ethel. It was hard to get a good picture of it, but do your best and tell me what you think. If you figure it out, let me know. Thanks!

Look how much her chichis are swelling. I'm pretty sure she's got a bun in the oven.

And good news about Lucy. She is NOT pregnant, thank god. She went into heat this last week, tongue waggling and back end dripping. Must have missed her last cycle.

Maker Faire Fun

What an incredible and exhausting weekend! The last time I was at the Maker Faire it was about a quarter of the size that it is today. Holy macaroni, I had no idea the event had gotten so big and crazy. It was something like a cross between Burning Man and a Professional Engineers conference: high on geek factor, low on e-bombed ravers. Since I'm a tee-totaler, it was the perfect blend.

On Saturday, I gave a workshop on urban goats and did a little cheese making demonstration. The talk went well, but I found it difficult to make cheese while milking the goat and talking. As a consequence, the milk burned a little giving the cheese a charcoalish flavor. How embarrassing! Whatevs, the goats were a hit.

Photo courtesy of Rachel Brinkerhoff at Dog Island Farm

Photo courtesy of Rachel Brinkerhoff at Dog Island Farm

After the talk, we had a great time parading the goats around, though we could never get very far as everyone wanted to get a pet in. Like I said, the goats stole the show. Thank goodness for Vanessa and my brother, Jan. They came along to help and I don't know what I would have done without them. Thanks guys!

If I had to pick the highlight of the day, this would have been it:

Photo courtesy of Rachel Brinkerhoff at Dog Island Farm

Lucy was so jealous that we got to drive that cupcake. It was pretty awesome. I'm trying to convince Esteban to build us one.

We even made the recap videos of the Faire. Watch Lucy destroy expensive sound equipment.

Um... sorry dude, but I did warn you.

Goodbyes Are Hard

Lucy was in a foul temper this morning. That makes two of us. I trotted out to the yard with the oh-so-bright idea that I would attempt milking her out completely by hand, but found myself more than a touch regretful when half way through the squeezing, Lucy planted a poo laden hoof into the milk pail. I leapt off of the milking stool erupting, "You fucking bitch!" I think the gaggle of teenagers at the bus stop (our yard looks over a main thoroughfare) overheard me as I could hear the snickers echoing up the hill "Who's she calling a bitch?" I could have kicked myself for being so cavalier, so presumptuous... so public with my colorful outbursts. Damn it, I knew better. Eh, Lucy did plenty of kicking for me. She coated my brand spanking new, totally awesome "Millions against Monsanto" t-shirt with a slime of crap and milk. I washed it off, but by early afternoon I detected a baby puke odor following me about.

I guess Lucy had a right to be upset; Fred and Ginger went to their forever home this weekend. Lucy's been agitated since they left. Even Ethel was miffed. I understand. We miss them too, even if they were only here for a short while. They're just so darn affectionate and adorable. But they've got great new digs down in Watsonville with Pam at Peaceful Valley Farm.

They will surely be happy there. Pam's got a great plot of land with all sorts of interesting residents, like this bantam frizzle,

these Polish ladies who, contrary to assumptions, are great layers,

this gorgeous roo, whom I wished I could have taken home but for that darn crowing issue,

and these cute-as-can-be turkey poults.

Chickens running around the yard is pretty pedestrian stuff to Pam. She grew up in the San Jose area where her mom always had a flock in the backyard. Her mother, who now lives in Los Gatos, often drops by to help her with the ladies. Pam's got all kinds of interesting breeding things happening. Right now she's working on crossing Ameraucanas with a brown layer (I think she said a Cuckoo Maran) to produce hens that will lay olive colored eggs. So cool.

I was super impressed by the number of onions Pam had planted: 365, one for every day of the year since that's how much her family eats on average. She's really got those suckers packed in here.

And check out this celery plant.

Good god, it's like a bush! The poor puppy could get lost in there. Maybe one day I'll get a celery plant to grow that ginormous. Though I suspect Pam may have some sort of plant crack in the soil. You should have seen the Dino Kale tree. Wish I would have gotten a pic of that. It was so impressive that I begged Pam to send me some of the seed when she collects it.

We wandered around the farm for a good long time, procrastinating on our goodbyes. It's so hard to let go. Fred and Ginger are super special to us. They are our first babies.But Pam promises that she will keep us all posted on their to-doings on her blog. Thank you, Pam, for taking Fred and Ginger into your fold.

Lucy's Birth Story

Dusk was beginning to fall as Ute and I had sat down to do some homework, when the Disgruntled Farmhand shouted from the bathroom,

"You know your goat's giving birth?"

"She is not!" I yelled back. "I checked her right before I started dinner and she was hanging out chewing her cud."

"Well she's screaming bloody murder now!"

Wtf? No warning? My mind raced as to what to do next. "Go outside and check her" was my first impulse, but I knew that there wasn't much time with goat screams like that. So I thought I better call the doula first. But where was the camera? Crap! Locked in the back of the car. Where were my fucking keys? Shit! I was in such a panic I could no longer prioritize. I took a deep breath and called the doula. I needed her here for support. I sent Ute to find my keys and meet me in the animal yard. I then flew down the basement stairs, whisking up the birthing kit on my way out to Lucy.

I found her in front of her dog igloo, on her side, bleating a sound that resembled more of a human cry than a goat's. The head of the first baby was already out and the amniotic sac broken (uncommon in caprine births). I tried to gather my bearings as I watched her through another contraction. I saw the head and one hoof lurch forward, but make no progress. The other hoof was possibly bent backwards. A goat needs to leap from his momma's womb with both hooves forward, otherwise the shoulders are too wide to pass. I stuck my finger in her on the side where I didn't see a foot and immediately the baby came rushing out covered in a thick slime, like a translucent version of the pink gunk that covered the lady and little girl in the movie Poltergeist when they returned from "the other side". The hoof was indeed back, but that tiny bit of added space gave free clearance for the kid to shoot out.

I placed the baby in front of Lucy's nose and she took to her motherly duty of eating off the amniotic sac like a duck to water. I was nervous that she might be one of those disinterested mothers, but she was amazing from the get go. With fumbling, nervous hands, I lifted the kid's leg to assess the sex. It was a boy!

Ute missed the birth of the boy, but made it in time to see a clear bubble pushing out Lucy's backside. Another baby was coming. (A fellow urban farmer over in Oakland, Kitty Sharkey of Havenscourt Homestead, alerted me to the fact that clear, whitish bubbles, the amniotic sac, indicated babies and red bubbles were the afterbirth.) I saw two hooves, but no nose. This one was coming into this world feet first. A perfect kidding position. Lucy heaved this one out with a couple of strong bleats, but nothing like the blood curdling cries with the first one. She was too busy licking. A girl! Fred and Ginger had arrived!

As I dried the kids off with a towel, Ute cooed to the mama, "Lucy, you did such a wonderful job! Thank you for all you've done for us." When I thought I couldn't take anymore of the sweetness of the scene, I felt Ute fling her arms around me in sheer ecstasy over the event and exclaim "I'm so happy!" And not in the way that a child is thrilled with a new toy, or a bag full of candy, but like a dad who is seeing his own child for the first time. It was the joy of witnessing new life springing forth into this world: a feeling truly beyond words for those of us lucky enough to have witnessed it.

Monica, the doula, arrived before the afterbirth. She is one of the most amazing people I have ever met. A marine biologist who has discovered more than one new species of nudibranch, she has also been absolutely everywhere, including Antarctica. AND she has experienced birthing lambs during the lambing season in Ireland. I can't even imagine. Finding someone like that in a city is a real godsend. She spent the next four hours helping me get the babies to nurse.

Oh what an ordeal we put ourselves through trying to get the kids onto the teat.With a lot of coaxing and forcing heads towards the nipple (a completely useless and frustrating maneuver, which I don't recommend), we got Ginger to take to it within an hour or so. Fred was too out of it. He tried to nurse everything else BUT the teat, including my chin. After a while he became tuckered out by his own confusion and began to doze off. We were concerned because you want them to get the colostrum in them within the first hour after birth. Two and a half hours of trying with a sleepy goat baby was enough for me and Monica. I hauled off to the shop for a baby bottle. We were going to have to milk some out for him.

Monica was a milking champ and got out almost 6 full ounces of liquid. But the bottle went over about as well as the teat. Fred was too tired to even suck. It was time to pull out the big guns: the syringe. Though he protested with his kitten-like bleats, we got the milk in him and called it a night. Well more like half a night. I went out to check on them at 1:30am, 3:30am, and 6:30am, fearing that Lucy might roll over on one of her babies out of exhaustion or that one of the kids might get pummeled by Ethel.

Poor Ethel. She stood off to the side and witnessed everything, head cocked, with the most puzzled look on her face. Now she knows what's in store for her next year. I could tell Ethel felt very left out by the family scene. It didn't help that Lucy made a low cow-like bawling sound whenever she came near. She was warning Ethel to keep a good distance from her babies for now. Lucy has amazing motherly instincts. So Ethel slunk off to spend the night under the chicken coop, which at first I thought was rather odd. But at my 6:30am check, I noticed that one of the chickens had been left outside the coop all night. I guess Ethel was standing guard for her. What a good goat. Given the situation, I'm pleased Ethel had a job to do.

The Disgruntled Farmhand and I decided to let Ute take a "personal day" from school so that she could bond with the kids. We stayed home as a family and watched as Fred and Ginger began climbing and scampering in less than 24 hours after having been born. We took pictures, shot videos, held the babies, made sure that Fred got the hang of nursing, which he of course did once the fresh from the womb cloud wore off, and spent quality time with our animals. I can think of no better reason to miss school.

 
I will be selling Fred and Ginger in the next 2-4 months and I would like to sell them as a pair. Fred will be wethered. Having been raised together, they will make excellent companions. While they are here, I will train them to walk on a lead. If you or anyone else you know might be interested, please have them contact me (heidikooy (at) yahoo (dot) com) as soon as possible. Otherwise Fred might end up a Bodhran, like in the Irish song.

I Just Milked a Goat

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They're Here!

Welcome Fred and Ginger! Born at approximately 7:45pm on August 30th, 2010. All parties are doing well. Details of the birth to follow, after we've all gotten a bit of rest.

The Waiting

As any woman who has ever given birth knows, it's that end part of the pregnancy, fraught with anticipation and anxiety, that really sucks. Most likely, Lucy doesn't even know she's pregnant so I'm the one doing all the worrying. She is officially two days past her due date and I am on pins and needles wondering when those babies are going to decide to show up. I check on her every two hours to see if she's showing any signs like bleating, agitation, stamping, a straightening of the back near the tail (the babies are certainly on their way out when you see that), or a hollowing out of the flanks. Nothing yet.

I think I've got everything in order: the birth kit packed with towels, iodine, and pain meds in case she has a difficult labor, a birth plan for the 5% chance that something goes awry, a doula, my lovely friend Monica from Ireland, who is experienced in helping birth lambs, and a professional photographer, Naomi Fiss, another dear friend. That should cover it. The only hitch would be if Lucy goes into labor tomorrow when I will be presenting at the Eat Real Festival. That would be very bad timing.

Do you think she needs a sign saying, "Caution, wide load."?



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Guest Blog: Farm Camp Review

Written by Guest Blogger Ursula Stauder (the most awesomest 14 year old in the world)

Farm Camp was the highlight of my summer. I learned so many things about Urban Homesteading! :D:D

At first, I was quite skeptical about the chickens and goats. I have always been a little afraid of chickens and the goats were trying to eat my clothes, but soon I started looking forward to waking up and feeding the animals. I found them quite amusing. Lucy, the pregnant goat, and Ethel, the non pregnant goat, were hilarious when they ate apples. The chickens were also very funny, and I learned that when you hear obnoxiously loud squawking that can sometimes sound like a barking dog, that a chicken is laying an egg! 

My favorite part of Farm Camp was cooking. I love to cook! Heidi and I cooked apple pie and bread. The apple pie was very fun to make and was delicious. I love apples, and to cook them into such a fantastic pie made it 10 times better. Along with apples, I also really like bread. I learned how long bread takes to prepare, and how cold the dough can be (editors note - This was a no knead bread method where the dough requires some refrigeration.). Ute also introduced me to uncooked bread dough. It is so good!

Heidi showed me how to double dig with compost for raised beds. It was hard work, and very smelly, but afterwords it was rewarding to see a fresh raised bed. After I replaced the soil, I had to soak it with water, which took a very long time. When it was soaked, we planted beans, beets, and other plants.

She also showed me how to make a planter with a plastic bucket and a drill. We also filled this with compost and a self watering bottle, which was an old two liter soda bottle. It looked great when we had finished.

Aside from the work, Heidi, Esteban, and Ute all helped me be more aware of my diet and surroundings by giving me small reading assignments and lectures that were very interesting and quite informative.

All in all, Farm Camp was amazing. I am so lucky to have had this experience. You guys have really opened my eyes to a lot of things, and I am very happy to be more aware about my food and lifestyle. Thank you so much Heidi, Esteban, and Ute. I love you guys!

Love, Ursy

Bagging Up

I think we will be having some goat babies soon. We came back from vacation to find Lucy with a seriously swollen utter.



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Plum Happy

Ethel says "Happy 4th of July." She and her friends are in plum heaven, as you can see, courtesy of our favorite fruit stand at the farmers market. Looks like she's been in an accident, eh?

Home

We've returned from "the happiest place on earth", which really should be called the most over-stimulating place on the planet, ready for the peace and routine of life on the urban homestead. If nothing else, we could all use a good cleanse in the culinary department after the all-you-can-eat junk food binge we've been on. I know I don't seem the type to make a pilgrimage to the Babylon ruled by a talking mouse, but my philosophy on life is much like the Zoroastrians: all things in moderation. Including hedonism.

I, myself, have extremely fond memories of Disneyland from when I was a child: the dizzying rides, the mountains of treats, the garish mechanical puppets. Though the sweltering heat and hoards of mouse eared devotees stewed in a landscape of over the top commercialism can feel much like a descent into hell, we had a thoroughly enjoyable time. To be sure there was unpleasantness to be tolerated. But I tell you, there is little that can top the expression on my child's face when after flinging pennies into every damned body of water on Disney property, wishing each time that she could fly, and then seeing her step off Space Mountain beaming "That was awesome! It was like we were flying through space!"

For all of you who only remember the Space Mountain of the 70s, let me assure you that it is nothing like that old rickety you-can-see-the-tracks-with-a-bunch-of-specks-that-kinda-look-like-stars roller coaster. The ride thrusts you into pitch black with a dappling of light flecks too dim to illuminate anything, as blaring video game-esque music pumps out of each car that twists and turns you through this simulated outer space at neck-breaking speed. We all gave it two thumbs up.

While we were away, my dear friend Julia kept the farm in tip top shape. We returned to find all living things happy, healthy, clucking, bleating, hopping, and growing. Here is an update on the various farm entities:

Goats

Lucy has become intensely "frisky" as her pregnancy progresses. I fully understand what those hormones can do to a lady, but poor Ethel has been taking a real beating, especially when it comes to food. At chow time, Lucy will do anything she possibly can to keep Ethel away from the grain, including headbutting with such force that it knocks Ethel clean off the deck. Lucy's high spirits aren't just reserved for her pal. She has given the chickens plenty of what for, but fortunately they are quick to scurry off. I, however, have not been as lucky. While attempting to get Lucy on her back for some hoof trimming, she gave me a blow to the noggin' using the side of her rock hard skull. I swear I felt my little mass of gray cells slam against the opposite side of my head. You won't be surprised to hear that I had a headache for the rest of the day. And to all you readers who may recall my pregnant hormonal episodes, just remember I never headbutted anyone... even if I did feel like it.

Chickens

Other than the a few scuffles with Lucy, the chickens are doing swell. I did hear that Eggo gave the farm sitter a hard time, refusing to go back into her coop at dusk. All the other hens were being good girls and going to bed on time, but Eggo just wanted to hang out with the goats to try and score some leftover feed.The goat food is like crack to the chickens.

Bunny Love

Julio is happy here on the farm, probably because I let him run around the yard eating all the dandelion greens he can stomach. His eye isn't getting any better so I think I'll have the vets do a tear duct flush when we have him neutered in a couple months. I can't wait to move him into the Green Bunny Playhouse, which will hopefully be done in the next couple weeks. Did I already tell you all about this project? I'll give a full debriefing when it's finished.

The Garden

I think the plants grew nearly five inches while we were on vacation, which is good because that's what is keeping them ahead of the rats. Those pesky little varmints are about to send my blood pressure into the stratosphere. They've figured out how to hop over the electric fence and have started in on the peas again. I've made some adjustments and that seems to be keeping them at bay for the moment. I'm not going to sit on my laurels too long as I've heard from my hubby that those assholes can chew through concrete. Some old fashioned snap trap reinforcements are going in at the weakest points of our electric barricade and around the chicken coop (sometimes when I'm out closing the coop door, I spot a couple pairs of beady eyes tucked under the lip of the nesting boxes).

Most of the veggies I've attempted to grow have done well, if they haven't succumbed to the rat invasion. However, there are a few exceptions like the chard which is getting wilty and brown and then being eaten by ants, the watermelon radishes which I've found some kind of creepy crawly on the bulb that looks like maggots (since these are growing fairly close to the chicken house, they may well be maggots), and the spinach which has a touch of powdery mildew (at least I think that's what it is). But damn, can I grow me some kale. I've got that stuff coming out of my ass. Even the bunny is getting sick of it.

The worst gardening blunder has been with my tomato and pepper starts this year. The seeds all sprouted nicely and then suddenly their growth was stunted like a malnourished child's, except the StupiceAnnie's Annuals and Perennials (an awesome nursery and definitely worth the trip, though I recommend going with a friend). I felt a bit ashamed at my botched job of seed starting, but as my friend Kd says "The only shame is not having any tomatoes at the end of the season." I kept those words close to my heart as I handed over a good chunk of change for some quality heirloom varieties. This year I'm growing Stupice, Thessaloniki, AAA Sweet Solano, Snow White, Black Cherry, Spike, Spain, Principe Borghese, Michael Pollan, Jimmy Nardello’s Sweet Italian Frying pepper, Gypsy Pepper, Rocoto, and Mulato Isleno. They're all on my front patio in a variety of types of self-watering containers. Keep your eyes peeled for a future post on the construction of these bad boys.

(P.S. I promise to keep up with posts this summer as there is a lot happening around here that I want to share with you all.)

Nebraska, the Good Life

This past week, Ute and I were visiting my parents. As many of you are well aware (let's face it, 99% of you, my precious few readers, are friends or family), I hail from a smallish town in Nebraska, population approximately 25,000. I didn't grow up on a farm or anything. Rather I would be considered "city folk" by the majority of Nebraskans since there is a Kmart AND a Walmart in my hometown. But I did grow up on the edge of town across the street from an alfalfa field, began working in the corn fields detasseling seed corn at the tender age of 12, was a member of 4-H, and raised rabbits. The latter was actually illegal. I often marvel at the fact that I would never be able to raise my current critters within the city limits of my hometown. Even though our house was situated on a rural route for mail delivery, we were technically within city limits and therefore could not keep small livestock animals within a 50 yard distance of any dwelling. And for those of you out there who are spatially challenged, 50 yards is like a long distance, even in land o' plenty small towns.

Whenever I return to my roots, I expect to eat the typical Midwestern diet and engage in the standard activities, respectively eating fast food, fast food, and more fast food, and sitting in an overly air conditioned home watching television. Well, when in Rome. However, this last visit held so many unexpected culinary and pastime delights. Here are some of the highlights:

swimming at the super awesome water park with Grammy Betty,


admiring the neighbor's flower garden on evening strolls around the block,



eating local cuisine (I was so shocked to see that this trend has reached the Midwest.) at places like The Back Alley Bakery,


which carried a wide array of locally grown, organic grains


and fancy cheeses,


and, hands down, the best kolaches I have ever eaten,


feeding ducks and ducklings at the park,


watching crazy thunderstorms with dark ominous clouds on one half of the sky and a bright shining sun on the other,


gallivanting around the county fair


where I took Ute and her cousin, Zane, on throw-up rides,


watched the 4-H pygmy goat show,


with some pretty uncooperative goats,


and saw this cute little boy win Grand Champion for his cockerel at the poultry show,


visiting my friend Dan's cabin on the North Platte River where he took us pontooning,



and frog catching,


and wading in the lovely river,


and best of all, spending quality time with the Kooy family.


What a wonderful trip! But I'm glad to be back on the farm. I know my DDF is relieved. Taking care of all the plants and animals, working at his regular construction job, and simultaneously helping build the retaining wall in the backyard has really taken its toll. And there's so much for me to do here at home. All the animals' quarters need cleaning, the chickens need feed, Miss Lorraine needs to start her 3 day injection of antibiotics for her eye infection that is not clearing up, there is a tree full of apples that needs to be picked, and a couple tons of apples that need to be processed or stored. Come to think of it, I better get off this computer and get to work.