Category: The Urban Farm

Meanwhile, back at the farm…

Posted on by Meryl in The Urban Farm

I know it’s weird that my fantasy life focuses on farm improvements. But this weekend, I executed three of them. The hen house was seeming a bit cramped, especially with four pullets soon to be added.  Also, the hens seemed to avoid the three small nesting boxes inside, preferring a larger box. So I added an two foot extension with larger boxes. I also had the idea of cutting a large sheet of plastic to lay over the bottom before putting in the sawdust, so I can (in theory) pull the plastic out with all the chicken manure when I want to change their bedding, as opposed to scraping out the house each time.  We’ll see how that works. I purchased all the materials for this expansion, including the roosting poles and roofing tiles at Urban Ore. It looks a bit ragtag, but the chickens don’t seem to mind:

[slideshow_deploy id=’1273′] Continue reading “Meanwhile, back at the farm…” →

Dressed for fall

Posted on by Meryl in Labyrinths

Just before the rain, I finished weeding, chopping and slashing, and used straw to outline the labyrinth paths.  It looks a little swallowed by straw at the moment, but it will all calm down with a little rain and time.

As I was doing this, I was thinking about Rumpelstiltskin, and his spinning straw into gold–clearly a daunting task. Why is it that so many fairy tales have questionable morals? I mean, really, we’re teaching children that it’s fine to back out on your promise if the person who helped you is less than human? Or if his demands now seem too great?

Anyway, the rest of the definitely-not-gold-but-straw bale will make paths in the vegetable garden and what’s leftover will get added to the chickens’ hay.  They happily dig through and manure it for use as garden mulch.

Another poem at least partially about poetry…ekphrastic?

Posted on by Meryl in Labyrinths, Poetry

I know it’s been almost a week, but here’s another poem as part of the ekphrastic series, assuming a poem about a poem can be in that category. This one is by Jack Spicer, one of the poets Larry first introduced me to when I came to the West Coast decades ago. Like Lew Welch, Philip Whalen, Gary Snyder, his work was different than anything I’d seen before.

Any fool can get into an ocean…

Any fool can get into an ocean
But it takes a Goddess
To get out of one. Continue reading “Another poem at least partially about poetry…ekphrastic?” →

We’re back

Posted on by Meryl in Garden, Poetry

After a long plane ride (this one was 11+ hours!), it often feels to me like I am still trailing molecules of myself along the flight path, and it takes awhile to feel reassembled in one place. Today, three days at home, I finally feel here. I celebrated by working on a poem and making a real breakfast from the garden enhanced with salt from the Camargue.

Both the literary and the culinary work were satisfying, with the hens still contributing a few eggs. Continue reading “We’re back” →

Where metaphors come from

Posted on by Meryl in Chickens

The young chickens–all four of them–have successfully integrated with the existing flock. Despite the dire predictions of my local chicken expert, the older hens did not kill or try to kill the young birds. I followed the advice of the “Chicken Whisperer,” who appeared last year at the Albany library. I bought her book City Chicks, which has advice about everything chicken, including how to clip a rooster’s toenails. She recommended that I introduce them in a cage inside the coop first, then merge them. This gave the older hens a chance to get familiar with their presence. The hens weren’t exactly thrilled to have the newbies, and asserted themselves with some vicious pecks, but there was enough room for the young ones to evade them, and they’ve been together two days now. In general, the young ones stay as far as possible from the older hens. Here they are, keeping their distance. Continue reading “Where metaphors come from” →

Houston, we have liftoff

Posted on by Meryl in The Urban Farm

After weeks of brush clearing, part ordering, putting up insulators, and stringing wire, we have a functioning electric fence surrounding the chicken run.

Since Tuesday, when we went live, I heard the foxes the first morning–that is I heard the chickens sounding their raucous alarm–but have not seen any foxes and they have not been audible or visible since Wednesday. I dare to hope the chickens are safe. Continue reading “Houston, we have liftoff” →

Voodoo fox

Posted on by Meryl in The Urban Farm

One of the good things to come from the fox depredation is that my neighbors have been stopping by and asking “What happened to the rooster?”  They greet his loss with genuine sorrow. How many people live in a community that enjoys a noisy rooster? Last night, one of my talented neighbors gave me a gift she made for me–and while I don’t wish the foxes harm, it gave me a thrill.

In the meantime, although I haven’t seen the foxes inside my fence since my last bout of repairs, they continue to prowl just outside. I have the remaining babies in cages on my deck, 30 feet up.

I’ve ordered electric fencing to add to my existing fence. This won’t injure wildlife, but should make it unpleasant for them. If that doesn’t work, I’m going to have to give up chickens!

 

Outfoxed

Posted on by Meryl in Chickens

Metaphors aren’t usually driven home with the force that I experienced on Friday. I had brought the hen and chicks to a new cage in the garden next to the house, and (I thought) secured the area with bird net.  I left for an hour at about 9:30, and when I came home, all that was left was one peeping chick and this:

I don’t think I’ve ever felt worse about my role as farmer. I totally underestimated the fox, and the hen and chicks, who I’d just taken a little movie of earlier, died as a result. The one survivor went in with the chicks the girls had persuaded me to get, and now I’m glad they did. Continue reading “Outfoxed” →

While I was gone…

Posted on by Meryl in Garden

Camping was only one of several recent adventures–about two weeks worth. In my absence, the garden has been burgeoning.  The labyrinth is hardly labyrinthine anymore, it’s so overgrown, and a sweet potato flower has curled into the driveway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The back is full of vegetables.  We’re eating the tomatoes as fast as they ripen, but there are plenty of other delights: carrots, cucumbers, squash, potatoes, onions, scallions, and lots of kale and spinach.

Is there anything more delicious than produce from your own garden?

Meanwhile, despite foxes, the chicken population has been growing, too.  I had ordered four chicks by mail before my eggs hatched, as insurance for winter eggs. However, only one of the four survived. I tried to get the mother to take the extra chick after our eggs hatched, and it seemed at first that despite the difference in size (three weeks old compared to newly hatched) she would accept her. But after a few hours the next morning, she was treating her like a threat. The girls convinced me that Toasty (their name for the chick) was lonely and needed friends. Continue reading “While I was gone…” →

Newly hatched

Posted on by Meryl in Chickens

We’re back, and on the day we returned, the eggs the broody hen had been setting on hatched.  We have six new baby chicks, all offspring of Malawi and his hens.  Surely at least one will be a rooster. Really, hopefully only one, with the rest hens!

WE have many garden and chick chores to attend to–more later!

Malawi’s memorial

Posted on by Meryl in Chickens

After letting the rooster rest in the refrigerator for a couple of days, I turned him into stock and used the stock and some of the breast meat to make a memorial dinner. I was going to use just his meat, but most of it was too tough, so I added some commercial chicken breasts.

I used paprika to get that red color–matching his feathers, with spinach standing in for his iridescent green tail. Lots of chopped, sautéed veges to thicken the broth. We drank a toast, lit candles, and said a few words commemorating his bravery and loyalty. On her way home, one of the guests saw a fox crossing the road!

I had spent two days doing my best to fox-proof the chicken run, stapling bird net in a looping arc from the top of the fence outward. We’ll see. Now it’s time to wait to see if we get a rooster offspring from the eggs under the broody hen.

On another note, a reader sent this link to a Public Television biography of Robinson Jeffers. She titled it “Ascots and Creakiness,” which aptly describes it!

Death in the morning, an elegy

Posted on by Meryl in Chickens

This morning I woke to squawking from the chickens. I didn’t think much of it; they’re often noisy in the morning. But it went on, and I went out in time to see a large grey fox with feathers in his mouth standing in the corner of the run. He stared as I approached, and then easily climbed the fence and ran off. The ground was littered with feathers, and one hen was trembling with several bald patches, but the real heartbreaking find was Malawi, the rooster, who lay alive but with his neck broken.

Here’s to beautiful, proud Malawi, who always led his flock to food and always waited and ate last. He successfully defended all seven hens from the fox, who went away with nothing for his trouble but a mouthful of feathers.

Continue reading “Death in the morning, an elegy” →