More Chicken Trails; we can fly!

In 5 weeks, these little guys have tripled in size, have grown most of their feathers and can fly 2 to 4 feet high. Their energy is catching and I find myself watching them for long periods of time, smiling and full of awe with these wondrous little critters.

My initial research suggested this as a Khaki Campbell duck, but now at 3 months, both of these matching ducks appear to be Roen females.

A white duck and its 3 siblings are from Pekin stock. A meat bird with little or no broodiness, their eggs usually need to be incubated to hatch little guys. The little Cornish chicken just had to get in on the shot!

This pretty Toulouse goose was in perfect pose; I couldn't resist. There are 2; one is smaller overall with a smaller head, so I'm hoping they are a pair. This breed makes great parents and they so enjoy eating all the grasshoppers and goat-head seeds they can find.


A Backyard Poultry article a few months ago explained how you can let your chickens do the hard work of turning your compost. By allowing them access to it, they'll scratch through it, accomplishing most of the turning while speeding up the ripening process.

The compost bed pictured above took only a couple hours of work today and some leftover, old lumber garnered from a generous contractor/construction site. Made mostly of 2 X 4s, I added 2 removable shelves on the two short sides. The chicken waterers will reside there so any spilled water will help keep moisture in the compost pile, as well as being a handy surface to rinse and refill these containers. Being off the ground will keep the water cleaner since chickens have a bad habit of scratching dirt into their water. I engineered this compost bed around an elm tree so it, too, will get plenty of water from the daily container changes.

Aside from racing a thunderstorm with tool pickup, our day was fun, productive and will help keep our chicken flock happy.

As always, Nature prevails.

Chicken Trails back on Track

Two day old poultry of geese, turkeys and chickens grace our lives - yet again. One of our local ranch stores got their yearly boarders of geese, turkeys, ducks and chickens. Cackle Hatchery had already mailed our chicken order so it was soooo easy to justify...JUST a few additions to the already large chicken family en route! Yesterday we brought home a couple turkeys and geese; today 2 ducks. Presto; the new Hasty Acres poultry flock is complete!


"EXCUSE ME, but you're hoggin' the water bowl"!

The larger poultry waterer at the other end of the sheep tank seems to be the playground for the geese and turkeys so we added a few small water bowls on this end, for the lit'ler guys. The water levels don't last long and the chicks do more swimming than drinking!

Most of these chicks are too small to easily reach into the chick feeder so we sprinkled a generous amount of feed on the paper towels. Most is wasted during the daily paper changes but the chicks seem to eat more this way. And even at 2 days old, a few of the chicks already know to scratch around in it besides the initial pecking instinct. Mother Nature gives these little guys a quick start!

We bought 5 different breeds of pullets and 3 different cockerels, with plans to bring together certain breeds that will propagate a combination of broad traits into the flock. We're hoping to combine productive layers, tasty meat as well as natural tendencies to set, to allow a natural growth of the flock.

1. -White Leghorn pullets (female), white eggs, almost daily layers, but non-setters.
2. -Americauna pullets, green, blue, pink and brown eggs, multi-colored birds that are good setters, tasty meat.
3. -White Rock pullets, fast growers, good layers of brown eggs.
4. -Light Brahma pullets, large birds, fairly good layers of brown eggs, good setters.
5. -Dark Cornish pullets, excellent tasting meat birds, fair egg layers of brown eggs, good setters.
6. -Americauna, Cornish and Rock Cockerels to hopefully support the tinted eggs, tasty meat, quicker growth and natural setting tendencies.
   

The turkeys, ducks and geese will also provide meat that does not contain medicines and pesticides. As an added benefit, the geese love to eat goat-head stickers which plague our yard; the entire flock will hopefully keep down the persistent hoards of grasshoppers that graze across our property and garden every year, eating everything in sight!

It seems more and more people are raising chickens. Articles are popping up in magazines; more cities are allowing poultry raising within city limits; poultry websites are growing and the building of chicken houses is growing into an art-form! And some inner city chicken stories are worth retelling...for a long time.

Thinking about a few hens and some home-grown, healthy eggs? Leave a comment, ask questions. We'd be glad to help - OR - send you somewhere for helpful answers.

Hasty Acres chicken tracks...are back! Weekly updates ahead.

Nature prevails.

Pawprints in the Sand

We lost a set of kitty paw prints in our sandbox today. Our Blazee lost her fight with renal failure.

I believe life begins a lot harder than it leaves; one second she was crying...the next, peace took her to wherever kitties go, who Love with all they're worth. There is a large void in our world - DH's world particularly; she was his shadow from her first whisper of a hiss as a day old lump of black, wiggly fur, fourteen years ago.

She took on the world like a miniature tigress with her first step, ran like the light and was a complete wild-cat to most, except her immediate family. With us, she could never get her fill of pets and chin rubs and ear scratches, nor did she ever stop giving her Love in the form of licks and burying her head in our bent elbows or rubbing our cheeks; her purr-box worked till the very end - even considering the pain and anguish she must have endured in her anemic, skin-and-bones state of being, over the past weeks.

Most of her life entailed free run of 7 acres and all the surrounding farm fields her little legs could handle. Kitty, my son's large orange tiger cat, was her only nemesis. I believe Kitty lived for the times he could corner Blazee up a tree. She'd scream like a tortured soul - which of course brought us to the rescue; we'd duly chastise Kitty, and the game was over...for a few days. Truth be told, I'm sure she could have taught Kitty more lessons than he ever dreamed he'd need in one lifetime. But that was their life, their game. And of course - as her good, loyal, devoted staff, we did our part.

Our struggle began about a month ago with blood work and a diagnosis of Renal Failure. We did the sub-cutaneous Lactated Ringers for a week, it helped a bit, but put her through more pain than it saved; one week was enough. We gave her a smorgasbord of soupy, kitty fare to keep her hydrated, but her overactive kidneys ran all liquids through her just as quickly as she swallowed.

We waited...and waited, giving her attention and saying our good-byes as the moments presented themselves. It is a weighty power, this control we hold over our pets life and death, a two-edged sword...to kill...or not to kill - under the auspices of humanity.

Today, it became obvious her kidneys were no longer doing their job and she was in pain. It was time. And our hearts bled.

A 5 foot tall, Russian Olive tree, now stands guard over her.

She will be missed...forever. God-speed, dear Blazee.

Good or bad, large or small, animal or mineral...Nature prevails.

Trails of Time: looking OVER the hill

I ran across an article from a prolific writer-friend of mine, Jan Verhoeff. Jan writes every day, I think perhaps - most every hour of every day. She writes well and is recognized as an expert in several areas including marketing.

But this article isn't about marketing, or writing, or even politics (one of her favorite soapboxes). Her article is about aging. And anger. Jan lost her Mom a few months ago and we have spent some hours discussing this topic.

I'm 63; oddly enough, this subject touches me deeply, and I am all too often, acutely aware of this anger she speaks about in her article.

Many years ago, I'd watch older, cranky folks and judge harshly; 'Aren't they old enough to know how to behave by now', I'd so naively think. As I said, naively; I was - then - young!

Today, I still pride myself with a generally positive attitude, mostly. But - there are those other times.

-Having one hand from birth, I prided myself in my excellent eye-hand coordination - more than double the average person's dexterity. Now, I drop more items in a day than my pride dares to admit. I often cry with frustration. And anger.

-I have always treasured my mental capacities along the years; my A's and joys with Algebra and math and all my schooling - without much effort, my ability to assay a situation almost instantly with problem-solving almost second nature. Many days now, when conversing with anyone, I find cracks in my road of thoughts and words that I quickly kid away as not sleeping well the night before, or fighting a bug, etc. White lies. And anger.

-As an animal lover and owner of many cats, a few dogs and 2 horses, I deal with their aging as well. Last year we lost 5 animals to old age; my second horse's legs gave out from arthritis and she finally laid down in her corral, unable to get back on her feet...one last time. One dog succumbed to her aging heart, another to her aging legs. One cat lost her ability to eat; my last 2 cats are slowly, painfully ambling about, one losing her fight to renal failure, the other going deaf and blind. My heart breaks, over and again, more times than I recall. I deal with deep anger.

Unfortunately, my aging brain works well enough to continually struggle with this dilemma. Is it fair? Why are we born to eventually die? Philosophers and theologians have bantered these questions for eons. To be reborn, to learn lessons, to teach others, to leave behind legacies, they argue, etc.

Are these reasons enough to bear the weight of aging and all its pain, struggle, loss of strength, energy, willpower, youth, etc?

I don't know; I probably never will. But regardless, we must deal with the anger and frustration. At times, I win this ongoing struggle for periods of time. I do so by writing articles like this; or by walking across John Martin Dam at sunrise and sunset; or watching a new-born kitten get it's first sea-legs; or watching my chickens give their all to catching an energetic grasshopper as though their entire being rested on their success.

Jan writes; "They didn't choose to grow old, it was forced upon them." This is so true.

So maybe one way to bridge this anger can be found in the moments of life. I find that I am most angry when I am comparing what I used to do with what occurs now. In my list above, I notice that being in a moment, surpasses that anger, allows for an influx of Love and beauty and of participation in Nature's insatiable need for beauty.

I agree with Jan; age is forced on each and every creature that breathes (and even the parts of Nature that don't; erosion of rocks, mountains, etc). And it does create anger.

But sometimes, I can become parts of moments; I can create them or enjoy those of others. Yes, age is forced on us. But we don't have to constantly carry that load.

Sometimes...we can look the other way...

Nature prevails.

ALONG THE BACK ROADS OF YESTERDAY: Memory Trails

The book is here! Along The Back Roads of Yesterday by Oris George is now available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble, and on Oris' website.

Oris George, has a love affair with words . His writing began early in life, his talent innate, and his stories - unforgettable, as you will quickly learn inside the pages of Along The Back Roads of Yesterday.

Yesterday...means different things to us all. To Oris, yesterday is about his youth on a farm in Colorado where chores were unending, food came from scratch, and Love was - well - just part of everyday living. Life unfolded to Oris through daily (sometimes hourly) lessons, and were sometimes garnered from his buddy Henry, his mule, Red, Homer the goat (who had a passion for keeping Oris' little brother in the outhouse), and so many other people and experiences in his youth.

One of my favorite stories in this unforgettable book is called, A Perfect Understanding. Oris weaves a touching memory about Bert, whom the town judges as a useless, dirty, aging person of little value, an out of control Palomino mule, his summer-long interactions with Bert as Bert trains this apparently useless animal, and the inevitable life-lesson learned.

"Mom was convinced Bert owned only one pair of bib overalls, and she knew that they had never seen the inside of a washing machine. Tobacco juice stained his thick, greying beard. A greasy baseball cap crowned a head of long, wild, unruly grey hair. He lived down under the hill behind the feed store on a straggly little 2 acre farm surrounded on all four sides by cottonwood trees and tall brush. The small dilapidated barn and the one-room cabin reminded me of Snuffy Smith's place in the Sunday funny papers."

"Fall passed and winter came again. Bert worked with his mule several hours a day. On Saturdays, I begged Mom to let me go to town with her and Dad so I could visit Bert. She didn't think I should spend so much time with Bert. She'd say, 'He doesn't bathe, shave or change clothes and isn't the right example for a growing boy.' "

" 'Aah, Mom,' I'd say. Bert was fun to be around, and he treated me like a man-full-grown."

By Rodeo Day in September, the real Bert - and his Dunfee Mule - overcame seemingly insurmountable odds.

"The loudspeaker crackled and the announcer said, 'Our own Albert Montague, formerly of Warren, Tennessee, has agreed to give us a demonstration ride on Stella, his gaited mule.' "

"Bert rode to the front of the grandstand, tipped his derby to the crowd, and Stella bowed. Turning Stella to the left, they moved out at a foxtrot. The crowd was silent. Halfway around the arena, Stella changed to another gait. The crowd went wild! Whistling and shouting, the spectators poured out of the bleachers like a giant wave and surrounded Bert and Stella. Hands were extended to Bert.

A new Bert, and Stella - no longer the Dunfee mule, exited the arena that day in 1945."

Titles like A Man Full-Grown and His Donkey, A Volcano on the River, Sounds Like a Plan (one of Oris' favorite sayings!), Little Man and a Naked Impression fill the pages of Along The Back Roads of Yesterday.

The war years of the 1940's held different values, different finances, different feelings. Oris immediately brings you back to those times through his stories, takes you back to those years when life really was simpler, sometimes harsher, but always real; living close to the land, steeped in family ties and hard work, Oris' yesterdays will live forever in your heart.

Only $9.32 from Barnes and Noble, this book is a must-read for your bedside table. Treat yourself to your personal copy of Along The Back Roads of Yesterday...today.

As always, Nature prevails.

Boot trails: shades of yesterday

It’s never too late to write a book; Bud Scranton from Prowers County, Colorado, has grandchildren. He will host his first book-signing tomorrow for Boot Tracks, There and Back, Thursday, January 13th, at the Senior Center in Lamar, from 10 am to 12 noon.

The first title for Bud’s book was Letters to my Grandchildren, which is the main reason he wrote the book – to insure that his grandchildren knew how different life was in the ‘30’s. “Life did a flip-flop after the war,” Bud said. "Life changed! I wanted my grandchildren to know that.” Bud went on to explain that the final title, Boot Tracks, There and Back, “…just fit! There were boots…and the tracks…all along the way. Well, it just fit.”

“It brought back the good memories, but I had to also relive some of the tragedies”, Bud said, as we chatted about his book. He said the hardest part was keeping the chapters “…short, simple and to the point.”

I asked Bud if he had any advice for other, promising authors. He hit the three high points that every writer needs to follow on their road to successful publication;

1. Keep it simple!

2. Write what inspires you, write from your heart.

3. Write the chapters out first, then go back, later, and edit.

Lola Shrimplin quoted Scranton in the Lamar Ledger last week, "This is brand new ground for me. I`ve never sold a book before. I`ve sold a lot of things."

Jan Verhoeff writes on one of her websites, http://acewriters.com/ , “Scranton’s dedication to life in southeastern Colorado, his family and neighbors is evident in his book. Weather darkened skin, wrinkled by the sun surrounds clear blue eyes when he speaks to you directly, sharing his memories of life on the prairies of Colorado.” On her Lamar website, http://lamarco.us/blog/?p=853., Verhoeff says, “Scranton, a survivor of the ’30′s dust bowl days, details his efforts to bring sheep to Colorado. Walking a path of determination he wore the soles off many a pair of boots to make it there and back, again and again.”

As I listened to Bud tonight, I heard a Love of life, an energy that evades many people half his age. I heard strength and pride as well as humility and kindness.

This book belongs on our bedside tables, a reminder to all of us that life is precious, short and so very much what we make of it. We get out what we put in; we are remembered for what we leave behind. Bud Scranton’s written act of Love for his grandchildren will endure forever – both in print, and in the hearts of his loved ones.

Boot Tracks, There and Back, is available...tomorrow at the senior center, at the bookstore in Lamar on main street by the train station, as well as at Amazon , and at Barnes and Nobles.

As always, Nature prevails.

Life & Death Trails: the Circle of Life

My friend is dealing with the deeper winter of her Mom's years. No matter how much preparation you've stuffed into your mind and heart, this road is lonely and painful and sometimes overwhelming.

Often, this is not necessarily a pleasant season - particularly for the pertinent participants. Aging not only embraces wisdom, experience and understanding, it also demands at times that we embrace pain and physical incapacity and letting go...of who we were, our youthful appearances...our facile mentality. This job description is not for sissies...or anyone with any semblance of a remaining ego!

Just yesterday, this aforementioned friend explained to me her first impression and comprehension - at a very young age, of 'the circle of life', the continuum that connects birth and death. It includes the coming...and the going, the loss and the gain, the births AND the deaths.

The entire Universe celebrates this same process; stars are born and then expire, bacteria and viruses cause us disease and then they die and we heal, babies arrive...parents leave us.

So how do we 'navigate' this 'circle'..when we're involuntarily dropped into its middle? Sometimes words and feelings are the only 'glue' that keep us from falling apart. This same aforementioned friend sent me her healing words many months ago when I was faltering, not participating in this 'circle' as I needed to. I add them here because they are uplifting and supporting...and I think she can use a little of her 'own medicine' about now. So, I 'remind' her here, of her innate 'higher self' that is there to hold her hand, give her feet the energy to continue on their path, regardless of the 'hills and valleys' that lie directly ahead.

"There are things in life that just make no sense whatsoever - whether you have strong faith or not. Disease and growing old are two of those things.

W e both love the sunrises and sunsets. They continue on... If there is a sunset, there will be a sunrise. The magnificence of nature brings us both joy. Life is like the continuum of nature --- the sunrise is birth, the dawn of a new day. We live through the morning, absorb the sunlight of prosperity during the day, and squeeze the last drops of sunlight out of the day (ie: old age, death, disease), long after the sun has gone down.

But...there is a sunrise the next morning. No matter how desperate the day ends, the sun will come up tomorrow. Life is a circle and just as it ends --- so it will begin. In my belief, that beginning is in heaven. That's where faith takes me.

In nature --- that beginning comes with the dawn. Although there's disease, death, and the night is full of marauders who thrive in the darkness, with the morning comes fingers of light and life. You appreciate the morning. But, I know that you understand the night too. Without the nighttime, there would be no morning.

When you're feeling down --- wait, patiently for the dawn... It's there, within your reach, just hold on tight and be patient".








My friend is Christian; though I am not, we share a biblical verse that holds deep meaning for us both. This verse helps guide me through some of life's more difficult times, assists my understanding of this sometimes incomprehensible...'circle of life' we belong to in this world.

A Time for Everything
1 There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven—
2 A time to give birth and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.
3 A time to kill and a time to heal; a time to tear down and a time to build up.
4 A time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance.
5 A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones; a time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.
6 A time to search and a time to give up as lost; a time to keep and a time to throw away.
7 A time to tear apart and a time to sew together; a time to be silent and a time to speak.
8 A time to love and a time to hate; a time for war and a time for peace. http://biblebrowser.com/ecclesiastes/3-1.htm

I send you PEACE, my friend.

As always, Nature prevails.

All photos on this blog are taken by and property of Danielle Simone.