Gettin' my goose

Here's some free advice, never get used poultry.

So we are clear – any modest success we've had with this whole farming thing is due to the Farm Master, Bourbon Red. He has patiently taught me about farming this entire way. Pretty much we just wait and see what he and his Lovely Wife do on their farm – then we do that too. And voila! It works!  And we are very grateful.

But.

There is the story of how he gave me the blue-eyed, long-necked, white feathered demon, Odysseus Henkiller, our Embden gander. To this day I'm not sure whether to curse Bourbon Red for that winged devil gander or to thank him. I love Odysseus. I hate Odysseus. I love to hate him. I hate to love him. Its a complicated relationship.

Here's what happened:  (click 'read more' for the rest of the story)

                                                        This gander is not your friend!

It's all about the D - O - G... hardworkin' farm dogs

I was never really a dog person until I moved to The Good Land. One look at how remote we were and instantly calculating that a 911 call was going to be a good 20 minutes away convinced me that just maybe some big ol’ dogs was just what I needed. It should be said that The Big Man has always had big dogs and he’s a pretty alpha guy so I didn’t have any qualms about getting ‘too much dog.’

We were also of the same mind on how to raise them. For a full overview of our training regiment just pick up a copy of The Monk’s of New Skete’s book on German Shepherd raising, How to Be Your Dog's Best Friend: The Classic Training Manual for Dog Owners (Revised & Updated Edition). We like dogs. Not accessories that you put little sweaters on or carry around in a purse. Dogs. Big, working, dogs.

I planned on getting two mostly black, female German Shepherds with unusual names like Zayne…but what I ended up with were two MALE German Shepherds who are all white and have the most common names ever. For heaven’s sakes…

The Insane Cat Posse

So I thought I'd do an introduction of the malcontents.. I mean, of all the furred and feathered folks that more or less peacefully abide here at the ol' homestead.
First up, The Insane Cat Posse

I'd like to make if very clear that I didn't start out being a crazy cat lady. I had two cats when I arrived in The Good Land. TWO older, well behaved cats  When we moved here my girls were almost 15 years old.  The Big Man had two younger boy cats. We figured they would fight it out and establish a peace. They did and everything was going along just fine. Total of four cats = doable and reasonable.

Aahhhh... but I hadn't expected the dumping factor. The country. Where people come from miles around to drop off their pets when they are tired of them or cant afford them anymore.

On being banned from IHOP

So there we were fresh from watching an inordinate amount of TV, a rarity, and having $20 burning a hole in The Big Man’s jeans.. we figured we swing on into town to the new IHOP for some of those gingerbread-eggnog-holiday delights they’d been talking about.

Of course we never just GO into town without doing all the errands, and since we usually only leave the property just after doing morning chores well, we looked a little “farm-y.” But they don’t make no never mind what we look like at the TSC… so off we went in our ratty truck and our barn clothes. Whoot!! IHOP here we come! I was getting cavities just thinking about it…and ahhh… someone ELSE who makes me a meal!! What more could I ask for?

Hen house traffic jam

This is what traffic jam looks like around here - sure there is some bocking and a little pushing and shoving... but there is no actual danger... and no one will scream obscenities at you. Or at least I don't think so.. I wonder what "bock bock" actually means?

                                                      No takers for playing in the snow.

"I farm therefore I eat" or "The World's Best Pie"

I farm, therefore I eat. Oh man... am I so glad that I farm – mostly because the hard work basically lets me eat whatever I want. Including pie for breakfast. Dry bagel with non-fat latte? Heck no – pumpkin walnut pie and coffee with about a cup of cream.

                                             Suck it monkeys – I'm having pie for breakfast!

Keeping my ducks in a row down on the farm..er.. pond.

The Big Man always said that he wanted ducks. I hadn't really thought about it but this property had a pond so when we got here it seemed to be a good idea. I pictured a couple of lovely white fluffy ducks gracing our pond and eventually, maybe, our table. So when our pals, Bourbon Red and His Lovely Wife, offered some ducks I packed up the truck and headed to their farm.

When I arrived a couple of webfooted gargoyles waddled across their barnyard. I instantly recoiled at the horror of ...whatever they were. 

“That's them!” Bourbon Red happily shouted out as I got out of my truck.

The 'ducks' were black or black like, with ugly unfeathered heads with weird red bills. Well ok....I thought, but not what I was picturing.

But hey - what could go wrong, and free waterfowl is always a bargain, right? Right.