First egg

At last!  An egg from my little hens.  By the blue color I know it is from one of my two Americanas.  The white one has become a special favorite of mine.  Scott found the egg, of all places, in the nest box, while putting in a chicken door from the hen pen to the cattle corral. 

Buttercup and Trudy again

My sister asked for more photos of the Guinea hogs.  I'm afraid these aren't any better than the last ones, but I hope my hogs will photograph better once they are out on pasture.  They have been patient with their pen in the barn and their rations of alfalfa hay, grain, and stale baked goods, but these guys were made for better things.  When spring comes they will have acres of pasture to explore and consume.  I have high hopes of planting some test plots of field peas, beets, oats, and rapeseed (canola) for hogs to self-harvest.  If these grow well, I can provide nearly 100% of my hog feed right here on Bluestem farm- at least for a season.  Growing my own organic chicken feed is on the project list, too, but probably not for this year.

A good man is hard to find

A good man may be one in a million, but in my experience, a good rooster is about one in four. 

(On a side note... I'm always surprised when people ask me this question, but it has come up often: Don't you need a rooster to get eggs?  The answer, is of course not!  Hens, just like women, "lay" an egg on a regular schedule, whether or not there is an available male of the right species to fertilize it.)

Since I haven't ever raised chicks from my own eggs, it doesn't matter to me if they are fertilized or not.  A good rooster, though, can play a helpful social role in the flock looking after his ladies, keeping the group cohesive, and keeping the peace. 

I didn't actually order a rooster with this batch of hens, but the hatchery included these two for free: a Black Australorp, and an unknown breed.   I preferred the black, since he is of a breed I know well, but the real test was to let the ladies decide.  Wings down, they prefer the black.  When I pick up a hen, he is the first to come running and check out the situation.  More of the ladies forage with him than with the other.  Most importantly, the intimate advances of the black rooster are tolerated, while the best efforts of the mottled rooster result in a great deal of squawking, with the usurper being chased off by the favored male.  So it's not my fault, but spotty rooster will have to go.  It's for his own good, really.  The black male is defending his harem with increasing vigor, and the other, while not a great lover, is certainly no fighter.  This picture doesn't do him justice, he's a big bird and will just fit in the new pressure cooker my Mom gave me.

I actually let him out of the cage since I didn't want to butcher in this cold.  He'll spend a night in solitary sometime soon while I take him off feed for the 12 hours preceding the end.  I've heard this makes chickens more calm at the end, but the real reason is that an empty gut makes them much more sanitary to clean.

Snow and more snow

There are only a few gates that I can either open or shut around our permanent snow drifts.  Most of the paddock gates are open so my herd has access to the larger pasture.  When it's cold they are happy to huddle around the hay bale or duck into the barn, but it warmed up to a sunny 20 degrees today, and I was glad to see Mary lead the rest out for a romp in the snow.  It's not healthy for cows to be confined in a small lot for long, though I think it's excusable when the ground is frozen.  I may put the next bale out in the pasture when the weather warms up.

I love to see the young ones kicking up their heels and getting some exercise.  I was also pleased to see that Catalina, my new heifer stayed with the group when they went exploring.  When Jake was new and Molly (my milk cow, now sold) was in charge, the herd was always trying to ditch him in the tall grass.

Introducing: Buttercup and Trudy

This just doesn't give credit to the bulk and strength of these critters.  We might be wise to reinforce the gate to keep them from prying it up. 

I received my first batch of stale bread from the Leo Center food pantry on Sunday.  A local bakery donates bread once a week to the pantry.

Whatever is left when the new bread arrives used to go in the trash, but not any more.  Hogs, chickens, and my wild birds get a chance at it before it goes bad.

When my layers start producing eggs, the Leo Center will be paid back in full for their contribution.  Does anyone else think it may be wrong to feed Challah to pigs?

More about Galloways

Belted Galloways on pasture

Galloway cattle are noticeably more furry than other breeds except Highlanders.  They do well in cold weather without needing to put on a thick layer of fat for warmth.  The breed is known for it's ability to grow well on grass alone.  Galloways come in black, red, or dun.  They can be belted or, more commonly, solid. 

Example of a white Galloway

A more unusual pattern for Galloway cattle is white with black points.  This similarity with White Parks has led to speculation that there may be some Galloway blood in the formation of the American Brisish White Park genetics.  I'm a big fan of the white color pattern, and from the start, Galloways were in the running for my foundation stock at Bluestem Farm. 

Catalina at Bluestem Farm

Catalina, my new half-belted Galloway (that is she is a beltie that only shows the belt on her left side) will be bred this summer to the same White Park bulls as the rest of the herd.  In a generation or two, I hope to see some white, black-pointed offspring from her, too.

Farm in a box

My round trip through the Missouri Ozarks to pick up hogs and heifers went smoothly- a great consolation to Scott after my dicey truck-stock trailer-ice-highway incident last winter in Iowa. 

I met Tyke, the hog breeder, in the little Missouri town of El Dorado Springs to transfer the stock from his trailer to mine.  I had visions of stout hogs running wild in the Pamida parking lot, but to my surprise, both boar and sow just stepped daintily from one trailer to the other and settled in for the ride.  The registered Guinea Hog boar, Buttercup, probably earned his name as a two-pound piglet, but at over 200 lbs now, he isn't worried about being teased.  The unnamed sow, I christened Trudy, after a former relation of my husband's. 

Heifers did not load so smoothly.  The farm didn't have adequate loading facilities, so we had to first select the two heifers I wanted and then run the rest of the herd out of the corral.  Then, the two lonely heifers had to be convinced to mount the trailer of their own accord.  After some graceless chasing, one heifer decided to try the trailer.  With little stress, I closed the door and secured her in the front compartment.  The second heifer was in a little panic when she tangeled in a mess of scrap wire that had been left in the corral.  With wire around her neck and legs, she managed to shake free, but by that time she was cut around her mouth and bleeding.  In her terror she started charging at everyone, especially Larry, who retaliated by swinging a board to smack her whenever she got close. 

The only way to treat the heifer was to let her settle herself and find the trailer on her own.  Larry had another idea.  He loaded up an air pistol with bee-bees and started shooting at her from outside the fence.  She didn't understand what he wanted her to do, but she sure knew that he was her enemy.  I was crouching behind the trailer door, in part to swing it shut if she happened to step in, but also to keep from being pinged with bee-bees, as the heifer was now between Larry and me.  When started to load the second clip, I called halt and took my one heifer home.  This wasn't the only sign of poor management that I saw there, but it is by far enough. 

My little yearling, half-belt heifer still calls for her mother some, but the herd has taken her as one of their own.  I think she will continue to gentle up with good management.  I've named her Catalina.