Hermit on the Homestead

So after months of research, I decided on just buying a regular old shed and converting it into a chicken coop by adding a chicken door and ramp, perching bars, and nesting boxes. Voila, Chicken Coop. Just days before the new coop was set to be delivered, I went out to collect the eggs like I usually do and opened the door. Nighty was dead on the floor of the old coop. I told everyone in the home and we were all shocked. My favorite chicken. The sweet chicken that used to let me hold her. My baby chicken I raised in the hall closet. Ganesh went out to investigate. We weren't sure if it was some kind of disease that we should be aware of. There was blood on her head and on the floor a little where here head was touching. No signs of struggle or illness in the coop. We have no idea what happened. After doing some research about perches for the new coop, I found out that they shouldn't be higher than three feet tall because the chickens can injure themselves jumping from a far dis

Much can be observed if one watches chickens. First there were two, we call them the "old ladies;" then there were four babies, then there were two babies, then there were four adults all together. The Old Ladies and the Young Ladies. Of the old, there's Crooked Foot and Straight Toes. Of The young there's Starry and Night. Night is quite friendly, an iridescent black with emerald shine, beautiful. Starry is speckled black and white. Old Crooked Foot was the Boss Chicken, getting her pick of the food and eating first, but when Night grew up, they got in a big fight. Crooked foot emerged one day like a phoenix on it's last legs right before the flames. All disheveled and featherless, very beat up looking. After that I realized Night was the new boss. Poor Starry is at the bottom of the pecking order. When I was the designated feeder, Nighty would stand right in my path and not move if I shook my foot. She would rustle her feathers and kind of squat down right in fr

Twas friday, January 13th, the sun shone brightly on the chilly winter morning. I looked out the window and saw no black yaks in the back by the shack eating a snack. I figured they were in the corner of the yard I can't see from the house, where they often are. Several hours later I was putting the baby to sleep and I received a mysterious text message from a number I didn't recognize and it said plainly, "Did you lose your yaks?" and I knew this must be truth.  I immediately thought they must have jumped the fence to the west where the yaks have befriended a white horse who lives there. I have seen them standing together and even nuzzling each other over the fence. I also knew that the fence on that side was pretty banged up and not very sturdy looking. I texted the number back, "Are you my neighbor with the white horse?" and the number answered "yes."  I put the baby in the crib, sleeping soundly, and immediately grabbed the keys to the truck an

As the temperatures begin to drop and the days are becoming windier, I realize that winter is right around the proverbial corner. Which made me realize for the first time, how will the yaks have their water in the winter time? Just use the hose to fill the buckets like I'm doing—wait a minute, the water will freeze, how do you keep the water from freezing outdoors? Wait a minute...how do you use the hose in the winter time in the first place? Do you have to drain the hose out every time you use it so that it doesn't freeze? So many questions...I have googled to death and I just wish I had a friend that new all these things already and could tell me the condensed clif-note version. It also doesn't help that I'm trying to research this on 1/3rd of a brain from sleep deprivation. After much research...I have found that people who actually have ranch set-ups just have a water faucet right where they fill the water, so no hoses required. But that requires a water line runnin

After months of working on getting hay from a local person, I finally found someone right here in my town. Just in the last few months, hay bales at the ranch store went up five dollars each. So a three string bale (80 pounds) costs $21.99. A two string bale which is half the weight costs $17.99. We are talking about cut grass here. This is why I was motivated.  I got a number for a guy here in town and called it. An old lady with a classic grandma voice answered, I asked if they had hay I could buy, and she answered, "I'll have to check with my husband, call back in three weeks. How did you hear about us?" I said my neighbor told me. So I called back in three weeks, she answered, "How much hay do you need?" I said, "I need 80 bales, or about 3,000 pounds." "Oh that's not much. I'll have to check with my husband how much hay he got this crop, but I'm pretty sure we'll have some for you." The husband called me back a few days l

I'm looking forward to making a decent photo of these yaks. But I'm still nervous, will they freak out if I bring my camera and get down low, crouching like a predator? I doubt it...but am I willing to bet on it? This is the best I can do so far. Am I ridiculous for wanting to get them fun ear tags ? How would I even put them on even if I got them.  Meanwhile, my yaks sure have a lot of flies around them. Why? Apparently this is a complex issue. There are Horn flies, Face flies, Leg flies, Horse flies, and more. I realize they don't have very many compared to the problematic images on the internet, but they still have more than I would prefer and it must bother them. Cattle and horses are plagued by nasty flies, I have learned. Face flies like to sit—you'll never guess. They like to eat all the secretions from their faces like snot and spit and eye boogers. It bothers them and transfers bacteria and they can get pink eye and things of that nature. Leg flies also are apt