Madcap Monday: Horse power

A growing number of ecologically-minded small farms are turning to draft animals (horses, donkeys and/or mules) to work the land instead of using tractors and other heavy machinery. We're not one of them. Our old (28ish) thoroughbred horse is retired and largely functions as barnyard eye-candy. And the donkeys? Well, they're supposed to be on predator watch, but we all know how good a job they're doing there... or not.

However, the grassy paths in the kitchen garden were looking a bit unruly last week but instead of cutting with the mower, I enlisted the help of my four-legged friends.

While they mucked up the beds a bit, they did a great job razing the grass to more manageable levels. And the natural fertilizer* they left behind can't be beat! Now if I could only get them to help me plant peas...

* Yes, I know you have to age manure before you use it in vegetable beds.

Madcap Monday -- Adventures with round bales

Since we first brought animals to the farm, we've always fed them with small square bales of hay.

Measuring approximately 3.5 ' wide by 2' by 2' and weighing between 40 to 50 lbs, they're easy to move around and use as we simply break open the bale and peel away the number of flakes needed. We've also found the hay stays fresher longer and there's less waste.

Last fall we thought 215 bales would be enough to get us through the winter, as the equines ate less than that in 2009. What we didn't anticipate was that as we were buying hay this year (versus using our own that we hired a farmer friend to cut and bale for us) the bales themselves would be much, much smaller, or at least less densely packed. And we have equines who love to eat. All the time. Total gluttons.

So there we were, nearing the end of February and rationing the last of the hay. Our hay guy was sold out of small bales for the season. We needed to take drastic action.


We needed to get a 600 lbs round bale.

Yes, we have a tractor now! Meet Rollin, a 1975 135 Massey Ferguson. More on him soon...

Having not experienced a round bale on our farm, the equines weren't sure what to make of it.


When they realized it was food, their instincts kicked in.

Cinder got this crazed look in her eyes and started chewing along the top like it was a cob of corn.

Lee rubbed up his head against the side of the bale while making these deep guttural, ecstasy-induced sounds.

Gall, usually the most respectable one of the bunch, shoved his whole head into it.

But alas, a day after bringing the bale into the barnyard, we discovered there was a big rainstorm coming. We didn't want to leave the bale uncovered as we knew it would get ruined in the rain, especially as it was tipped onto its side.

Lucas moved it into the barn's first run-in, hoping we could salvage most of it. The equines had other plans.

The barn now has a lovely communal bed/snack bar/depository of poop/duck roost.


And I'm shopping for more hay... and a cheap used round bale feeder. Or maybe we'll just go back to small bales.

Snowstorm!

Madcap Monday - Donkey spa day

Dust baths: the classic, but always rejuvenating, spa treatment for donkeys.

"Can somebody bring me a white fluffy robe, please?"

Madcap Monday

A legless conga line.

Madcap Monday

Cinder lipping off

Morning barn madness

Farmers are early risers for a good reason.

There's lots to do, especially when you've got animals.

Thankfully, many hands make light work and the kids have taken to helping me with the barn chores (they actually look forward to the visit -- most mornings.)

So here's a peek at our post-breakfast routine:

1.) Feed equines. Gallagher first, donkeys next.

Yes, Gall is our biggest animal but feeding him first has more to do with managing herd dynamics than his size: If we don't give him his grain first, he gets all snooty and pushes the donkeys out of the run-in (he's the alpha so he has to eat first in the name of "protecting" the donkeys). Hay in the summer? What about grazing, you may ask. We also have a paddock roped off in the larger hayfield but it's so buggy out there right now, the equines stay pretty close to the barn during the day. While we're still trying to get some weight on Gall, the donkeys certainly don't need any help there. But it's either we feed them hay or they eat the barn. No kidding.

Gentle boy


We think Cinder was looking for the self-serve buffet.

Lee too. He's got to work on his stealth skills though (note that donkeys are not allowed in this part of the barn.)

Putting those muscles to work.

Breakfast, finally.

2.) Release ducks.

The ducks are free range during the day but we house them in a converted goat stall at night. Once the donkeys are munching on their hay, there's a clear passage from the barn to the duck/goat yard where they've got their water and paddling pool.

Once (if?) we get our hay cut, they'll be able to access the ponds where they can paddle at will (the Rouens at least. The Muscovies aren't too sold on this whole swimming thing. They prefer flapping, perching and sleeping. And squeaking once in a while (they can't quack, though they do try so hard.))

Peeking duck

Getting ready for the big release


Paddle pool or bust!

Testing out the wings (the Rouens prefer the feet)


Upside-down duck limbo

Like a duck to water

3.) Release chickens.

We've got 30 "babies" (they're three months old now -- I'll get around to posting about their arrival soon) in addition to our nine laying hens (we lost one Red in the spring.) We keep them inside the barn during the night but let them out first thing in the morning. We've got a poultry "yard" made with chicken wire and snow fencing (so classy) but the chickens use that perimeter as a loose guideline. They're usually roaming around the barnyard, scratching in equine poop (of which there is a lot of ), picking at weeds (of which there are also a lot of) or catching bugs (ditto for lots of those).

Chicken run

On their way...

Strike a pose

Henry really needs some sheep or something. The chickens just didn't want to be herded.

We have proper nesting boxes but the chickens have taken to laying in a secret nest among the straw bales.

4.) Feed and water goats.

We've been keeping the goats inside lately because Lucy, who we suspect is pregnant (yes, us greenhorn farmers didn't realize that a buck could be so 'fruitful' at such a young age. We've fixed the problem (okay, we fixed Sammy) but we're left with the prospect of a goat kid (or kids, it's hard to tell) sometime in August) likes staying close to home during the day (who knew goats could get barn sour?). Sammy likes staying close to Lucy (though he also loves tearing around the barnyard terrorizing the sumac.)

Lucy (behind) and Sammy on goat mountain.

Getting in to her work

More muscle power (That look means, "Come ON mum, this water bucket is heavy!")

The nighttime routine is pretty much the same (but in reverse) except we also feed the chickens and ducks and collect eggs. The ducks usually return to their pen on their own around 6:00 pm and the chickens come in for the night at dusk. Of course there's also cleaning, sweeping, fixing, grooming, picking feet, refilling feed bins, stacking hay, etc. (And we're only hobby farmers at this point -- just wait until we get our 'working' animals!)

It's a lot of work but it's worth it, especially when I've got my farm hands to help.

Do donkeys dream?

And if they do, what about?

With a little help from my (four legged) friends

For a long time, I've dreamed about having a vegetable garden. It would be functional and beautiful, filled with butterflies and bees, flowers and herbs and quaint homemade twig trellises, mulched paths and little touches of whimsy. Sigh.

When we moved here last July, what I got was a once-loved but most-recently-neglected patch of five-foot tall pigweed.

By the time we'd settled in and I got a chance to work in the garden, all the weeds had gone to seed. I was able to salvage a few tomatoes and of course some pumpkins but the garden was pretty much a write-off for the year. I hand-pulled as many weeds as I could and hoped for a cold winter that would kill off whatever was left.

By the first snowfall, I tried to put the whole mess behind me and focus on getting a fresh start in the spring. Or that was the plan.

We got off to a reasonable start. I put away my no-till thinking (for this year, at least) and in May, we rented a tiller and ploughed over last year's patch.

Unfortunately, I got busy with work and at least a week passed before I was able to get back into the garden. In that short time, deep-rooted grass with a crazy underground network of rhizomes began popping up everywhere. First the odd blade or two, then a few days later, those lone blades morphed into tufts. Then the baby pigweed started appearing again.

While Lucas drilled holes and built a beautiful split rail fence to help keep the deer (and dog) out, I started hoeing and hand pulling weeds again.

Ella looking down one of the newly augered post holes.

No matter how fast I worked, I just couldn't seem to get ahead.

So, in early June, I shelved "The Dream", got practical and downsized. And now, my garden measures only 28 feet wide by 16 feet deep -- about one-quarter of the entire patch (though still sizable, I know.)

I delineated that area with old two-by-fours and managed to clear enough to plant this year's garden: 24 heirloom tomato plants (not one variety is the same - more on this later), two zucchini plants (hopefully, one green and one yellow), one cuke, several green bean plants, a watermelon, five strawberry plants, one pepper plant, some basil, and two rows of carrots and multi-coloured beets. Plus some sad looking nasturtiums and a row of mammoth sunflowers. Oh, and a pumpkin plant that emerged from the compost pile.

Not a touch of whimsy to be seen anywhere.

Some of those plantings were ones that I grew -- more were not, as many of my seedlings bonked this year. It was not what I envisioned by any means. But strangely enough, by letting go of my expectations of perfect self-sufficiency, I've started just enjoying whatever happens in that little space.

Case in point: I planted my carrot seeds late this year just before we had a long stretch of hot, dry weather that prevented the seeds from germinating, or so I thought. Then just yesterday, after four days of rain, I discovered tiny one-inch tall carrot plants. I'm not sure if they'll mature in time before frost hits, but I think I'm actually okay with that, because when you don't expect anything to happen, whatever does happen becomes that much more wonderful.

But unfortunately, my carrots weren't the only plants to benefit from the rain: those baby pigweed plants are now adolescents. I was determined to pull them and the other broadleaved weeds before they went to seed. But I needed some help with the tall grass. I thought about taking the weed wacker to it, but as handy as the machine is, it's noisy and awkward.

So I put some electric tape around the perimeter of the veggie patch (it wasn't live, but who's to know?) and invited some four-legged friends to an all-you-can-eat buffet lunch.

Gallagher helped himself to the grass while keeping an eye on the other two yahoos.

Cinder found the compost pile delicious.

And oh, so exhausting.

Lee, unfortunately, decided that this tree was to his liking.

Cheeky bugger.

Even Chris the barn cat strolled by for a visit.

So they munched while I weeded. And again, it wasn't how I expected I'd be tending my long anticipated garden. But it was a perfectly lovely way to spend the day just the same. And for now, that's good enough for me.

P.S. Um, yeah. If you're wondering about the last three months -- let's just say I had something of a crappy spring. I was juggling work, farm chores and kids and felt like I was failing at all three. After a long winter, I had so many expectations of what we'd get done in the spring -- and none of it happened. No matter what we did, our to-do list kept getting longer, our bank accounts kept getting emptier and I became exhausted and overwhelmed.

And as more things didn't happen - or at least, not like I expected - the less I wanted to write about yet another thing gone "wrong." And so I stopped writing.

But once I started letting go of those expectations, it opened up the possibility of things happening, just differently. I'm still very type A and this whole "simple living" thing is anything but simple, but making myself (and everyone around me) crazy because I want everything fixed and perfect and done right now is creating way too much negative energy and unhappiness. And for what purpose?

So I'm trying to go with the flow a bit more while reminding myself that gardening or animal husbandry or even living simply can take years to learn. And no matter how many books I read or how hard I try, it's the life experience that will make the biggest difference -- to me and everyone who shares that life with me.