Two years ago we planted two Carolina Sapphire cypress trees to be our living Christmas trees. The young’uns fulfilled their duty of decorating the trees. Can you tell how tall the oldest is? And the eye level of the youngest?
Christmas at the farm with chickens, dogs, kids… best ever!
Some of the chickens from the West Coop are taking advantage of the hot sunny day. There are nine girls enjoying the sun. Penny, the white Delaware, will soon pester someone so she can have the prime spot, defined as wherever someone else is comfortable.
When they’re splayed out on the leaves and sticks, it looks like a chicken slaughter until somebody decides she needs to be in the middle and makes everyone move.
One of the princesses was obviously feeling her creative side when she laid her egg. I see a grinning smiley face winking at me. I don’t know how she did it. The design didn’t wash off or rub off. I’ll bet it was Cinderella. She’s such a jokester.
FAITH is in the Bitter Barn because she is super broody. Don’t let her sweet look and cute floppy comb fool you. She’s a raving banshee. All the chickens and even Malfoy gives her a wide berth. She snuggled down with her imaginary eggs and occupied a nest box for two days with no break – no food, no water, no break. After four or so days in the Bitter Barn, she’ll be her old sweet self.
HOPE is convalescing in the South Coop. Two days ago she stood in front of Farmer Man and chirped. Chickens cluck. Baby chicks chirp. He reached down, picked her up, and was shocked at how light she was. When a chicken is sick, she is relegated to the bottom of the pecking order and frequently isn’t allowed to eat. We fed her medicated baby crumbles and put her in with Buttercup. Buttercup is at the bottom of all the chickens’ pecking order. She doesn’t mind a little company, and she’s enjoying Hope’s baby crumbles.
FAITH is in the Bitter Barn, and HOPE is not well. Good thing we don’t have a chicken named CHARITY.
Four days’ worth of eggs – ready to be washed and put in the Egg Refrigerator. I have an egg washing process that would bore you senseless, but it works for me. I only wash the eggs I sell or donate because the state health department requires them to be washed. Silly gumment.
I don’t wash the eggs we eat – that would be silly. Washing washes off the egg’s bloom, which protects the egg and keeps it fresh. The Ameraucanas lay the green and blue eggs. The Marans lay the dark, dark brown eggs. The Buff Orpingtons lay the darker tan eggs. The Black Australorps lay the tan eggs, and the Delawares lay the lightest tan eggs.
A dozen dozen – Gross! (farm humor)
A water pipe burst in the yard overnight, transformed into a spectacular fountain, and sprayed the surrounding area, including shooting into the trees. The icicles are glistening in the sunlight. Not the usual Florida landscape.
The water to that section is turned off. Farmer Man will replace the broken pipe when daytime temperatures warm up to 60° or 70°.
Farmer Man is building nest boxes for small birds. The opening is wide enough for our small birds — chickadees, tufted titmice, bluebirds, wrens — but not large enough for the house sparrow or other larger birds.
The diet for a small bird like a chickadee and tufted titmouse is 80-90% insects, spiders, ants, wasps, stink bugs, and caterpillars. And the acorns are the other 20%. Our yard is a regular smorgasbord for our visitors.
Our nest boxes are an open invitation to our fine Bed and Breakfast establishment —complete with an all-you-can-eat spider buffet.