An update from Maine and talk of barns

February 8th, 2010 § 0

I call him a “neighbor on the digital gravel road”.

Lou's Cabin in Maine

Lou Urenek blogged about his cabin building on the New York Times and has moved his blog to it’s new home at MaineCabinBlog.com coinciding with his completion and move in to the space.  We’ve swapped emails from time to time during his building and I look forward to his notes, ideas, challenges, and sharing the world of a small cabin life.  So, as I wrote earlier, what do you call a colleague / friend / email correspondent / blog buddy?  “Neighbor” works well.

This week, Lou posted a few tiny cabin designs from a book he is reading and that led us to a discussion of “what’s next?” and for both of us, it’s a barn. Before I go on and talk about barn plans for Two Mile, I encourage you to visit both Lou’s NY Times blog and his new blog.

Two Mile Barn

I picked out this barn design before I began building the cabin.

My hope is to have both a nice work and storage space as well as a potential guest space in a carriage house loft.  I like the plans and their modular design, in practice, I could build the center module, and then add the lean-tos on either side and end as I need to expand.

Walnut Woods design by DJ Berg

A design like this won’t house large farm implements, but will over protection for the boat, the truck, and make a nice heated and predator-proof space for brooding chicks and a sick bay isolation area.  I had an estimate for nearly $20k to build this as a shell, interior work, electric and plumbing would be on top of that estimate.  I suppose it’s time to get a bid on the materials and see if I can carve out part of a summer and fall to build it.

When I first came to Two Mile, I thought the barn had potential to be rebuilt and restored.  In the late 1930’s and 1940’s, when barn builders put  thousands of these bards on farms, they didn’t do much foundation work or consider the frost heave.  This barn lists about 2 feet to the north.  It’s quaint and has some storage ability. There are days I think about fixing it up to make some shed like storage that would be 75 percent weather resistant.

The existing barn (2005 photo)

So maybe this spring, I’ll take another stab at the old barn, clearing out years of now-composted straw and manure and see if I can take advantage of what is there.

Famous chickens and The Spendid Table

February 5th, 2010 § 0

Three of the chickens heading to "freezer camp".

My Sunday mornings include listening to Lynne Rossetto Kasper and The Splendid Table®.  Sunday’s episode included a discussion of “french chickens” sometimes called “Freedom Rangers” or “Colored Range” chickens – the chicken breed I grew this year.

After seeing how well they grew, and knowing their history, I enjoyed hearing Kasper’s voice as she described her thoughts and ideas with the caller from Alaska who also raised these excellent chickens.

While I did not weigh each chicken, the dressed weight was in the 5 pound range and larger.  A great source for this birds is JM Hatchery.  The breed of chicken is part of what makes the French Label Rouge criteria for raising poultry in manner that is respectful of animal welfare and the environment.

…it was uphill, both ways, in cardboard shoes

January 18th, 2010 § 0

Oh, the stories we tell.

Winters now are never as bad as the winter’s of our grandparent’s youth, when they walked to school — up hill, both ways — in cardboard shoes — and they liked it!

The drifts reached the top of the deck

The drifts reached the top of the deck

But yes, 2009 -2010 looks like one for the memory book.  The snow at Two Mile was deeper than I’ve seen here, and the drifts and snow mounds rival what I remember as a kid.  The wind has moved the drifts — nearly deck high around the cabin, two duck deep in the pens, but there is a clear, drift free area just in front of the chicken coop which makes it easy to feed, water and check on the chickens.

It was a year ago that we saw temps pushing 60 degrees, and then plunging enough to cause my underground water line to freeze.  This year, I can hope to avoid that lesson.  On our coldest days, 17 below zero, the water flowed, the drains ran, the heat worked and the Internet stayed connected.  It almost made me think I was living someone else’s life.

Now, after a week of warmer, 30 degree days, the snow is manageable, the drive is nearly clear, and I can dig out the chicken coop and let the ducks wander down to the pond.

I need to remember to let the ducks take care of themselves.  Every time I try and intervene, I learn a life lesson, similar to the  old joke I’ve heard.

It’s the story of a man, and his faith.

The man’s home was surrounded by flood waters during a nasty storm and before long, a rescue boat came close and they yelled at the  man through his window to evacuate into the boat.  But the man told the rescuer’s his faith would protect him and to rescue someone else.  The boat left and the water rose.  So then man scrambled to the roof of the home.

A second boat came, this time with more urgent pleas, but the man refused, saying his faith would protect him.

Finally, as the flood waters nearly covered the roof of the home, a helicopter hovered overhead.  They lowered a rope which the man refused, saying his faith would save him.

Minutes later, he was swept away and drowned. (No, that’s not the funny part)

The man meets his God and asks, “God, how could you let me drown?  I put my faith in you and you did not save me.”

And God replies, “I sent two boats and a helicopter, what else did you want?”

This story crossed my mind, after I learned a life lesson on Sunday last.  It started when I shuffled a path from the duck pen to the pond and let the ducks out to swim.  I don’t know for sure, but I have to think that to ducks, 35 degree water is warmer than 0 degree air.  By the end of the afternoon, I walked down to try and herd the ducks back to the pen.

An aerator keeps open water as the ducks swim

An aerator keeps open water as the ducks swim

All nine ducks got out and started back.  They could not see a path or grass, just white snow everywhere they looked.  Five of them continued on to the pen, the other 4 went back to the water.

Here is where I made the first of my mistakes.  I should have let them figure it out on their own, but what resulted was me, trying to herd / encourage the ducks out of the water, only to strengthen their resolve to stay in the water and for me to fall through the ice

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four times.

To paraphrase the joke,

“Why didnt you tell me it was a bad idea?”

“You fell through the ice 4 times, what more did you need?”

By the next night, all the ducks were back in the pen.  If the four straggler ducks could talk, I’m sure they will be telling the others that their trip to the pond was “up hill, both ways…..and they liked it.”

Snow angel and the ghost of King Louie

December 26th, 2009 § 1

Snow angel, the pheasant's wings made these as he took flight

Fresh snow is perfect for making snow angels.  And by tradition, Christmas is the best time to be visited by ghosts from the past.

Last year about this time, King Louie, Scout and Ace were still hanging around Two Mile Ranch.  It was March, after a long and loud crowing season, when the three pheasants moved on from Two Mile.    In a few months, new pheasants were in the fly pen and have since been released.

This season’s pheasants have  scattered into the habitat.    From time to time, I can see one on a short flight in the tall grass habitat.

With the snow that fell over the last few days here, all the old footprints and paw tracks made by Zinger and I were wiped clean, leaving a new winter playground for the mice, voles, rabbits, and song birds to decorate. The new snow has also made  food  scarce for pheasants.   They find grain spills, still standing corn, and planted food plots.

In this recent storm, Winter winds whipped a few new drifts, snowed in the ducks, and covered the daily paths we used since the last big snow.  So today, after a cup of coffee and a visit to the post office, Zinger and I went about our winter daily chores.

We fed the chickens, who smartly stay on their roosts in the coop to stay warm.  Next we dug out the duck pen to give them passage to their pool.  On the way back across the snow, I noticed a set of pheasant tracks coming from the fly pen to the cabin.    They were moving forward,  past the chicken coop, and up along the cabin. From the cabin, the tracks snaked under the deck, and then they stopped in the middle of the hill leading down to the pond.

Zinger and I walked over and I found a snow angel:  the wings of the pheasant made two prints in the snow where he took flight for a short glide to the lighted Christmas tree on the dock in the small pond.   The landing print where he landed was at the base of the tree, then, his walking prints continue out to the middle of the pond, and then the pheasant took off again, heading for the tall grass over on the west side.

The tracks in the snow, retracing the familiar route of Louie and Ace, are almost like a visit from a ghost of pheasant’s past.  I suppose I should drag out the Dickens, and read about the visit from three ghosts.  If Dickens’ spirit lives in southern Iowa, I can expect to be visited by two more ghosts.

She wrote: “Merry effin’ Christmas”

December 20th, 2009 § 1

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

A newspaper man in 1897 wrote those lines in what became one of the most reprinted editorials in the history of print. Francis Pharcellus Church, answered an 8 year old girl who wrote him asking:

“DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
“Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
“Papa says, ‘If you see it in THE SUN it’s so.’
“Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?

Over 112 years later, someone who has a very special place at Two Mile wrote on her Facebook status update:

(Name) can’t even read the blogs at this point. Everyone is negative, everyone is finding fault with some group or another, everyone hates someone or something … the government is busilly screwing everyone … we’re being manipulated by retailers to buy, buy, buy when the whole country is broke, broke, broke … Merry effin’ Christmas.

I’ll refer to her as my “Facebook friend”  and she and her partner live quite a distance from  Two Mile Ranch.  Her gifts and emails  have made such a difference in the daily life here that I took her comments to heart. I wondered if I, too, agreed, with what she writes.  And yes, much of what she shares is true of the blog-o-sphere.  Many days, I look at my life through the same “smudge colored glasses”, seeing only the bad, the broken, and the criminal of life.

So many of us wrestle with our demons during 11 months of the year, and in this tough year, its hard not to let the demons rule all 12 months.

The view from the big cabin

The view from the big cabin

But if I could give a Christmas gift to my Facebook Friend, I would invite her and her partner to Two Mile for the day.  We’d begin letting Zinger out for a morning run.  Zinger, the Aussie Shepard, has the breed quirk of curling her lip and bearing her teeth in an adorable smile first thing in the morning, when I see a smile like that, it’s hard to think about double digit unemployment.

Then, we’d go to the chicken coop, let the girls out to roam in the snow and collect fresh eggs for breakfast. We’d pause for a moment, and I’d be thankful for another friend who encouraged me in the chicken raising.  If not for the encouragement, I might have waited another year, and missed the fun and rewards of chickens.

Next, we’d move on to the duck pen, to feed the 9 ducks and let them out to wander to the pond.  In tribute to the Clement Clarke Moore poem, we could call them by name, “On Liberace, On Billy Ray” and so on….. the duck known as “Sweetie”, who I later came to find out was realy named “Hillary”, could eat from our hands before quacking (being the loud and bossy one) down behind the others to the open water of the pond.

During the day, we could explore the back 60 acres, looking at ways to improve the game bird habitat and expand and restore the pasture. The gently rolling hills are now depleted of nutrients from 18 years of sitting idle in a CRP program.  The future of making this land better and sustainable lies in the next 5 years of work. There is a mile or two of fences to fix to help keep grass fed beef and goats safe and in line. My  friends are encouraging me and we’re talking about ways we can both use the pasture to grow our small ideas into bigger and better sustainable ones. We both want to  raise grass fed beef and perhaps certify the pasture as organic.  There is much work to do and we really won’t “partner” as much as work side by side.  There is so much opportunity and promise for the future.

If we’re lucky, we’ll see some of the pheasants released this season.  I know where a few tend to hide out during the day.

Over coffee and tea in the afternoon, we could share stories about favorite friends.  Those who we’ve stayed close with, and other friendships we wish to mend. Friendships, too, are often strained during tough times, and as we grow older, we lose half of them every 7 years or so.

There might even be a discussion about how to balance the pleasures of solitary small farm living with the importance of social connectedness.

Finally, as the sun drops behind the western hill during this string of shortest days of the year, the single  Christmas tree, which has been lighted every year on the end of the dock, in the middle of the small pond, would add festive colors to the snow and ice over the pond, and up the hill to the cabin.

A passing neighbor will probably honk once or twice as they head off to holiday activities, or the chili super fund raiser for the local emergency crew in town.

But also, knowing my Facebook friend, the rush of holiday sentimentality and warmth in her heart will also be tempered by enough humor, that the day would end something like

I heard them exclaim as they drove out of site,  “Merry effin’ Christmas to all, and to all a good night”

With friends like that, I have to agree with Francis Church, yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

Before the storm

December 12th, 2009 § 0

The weather news this week for most of the country was the winter storm.  I have to admit, it was impressive, the kind of snow I remember from my childhood, with snow banks taller than people and icicles, and drifts.

The wind was out of the west and north for most of the storm, so where the drifts piled is an interesting study in how to lay out a farm yarn and animal pens.  The duck house was sheltered by a few stacked square bales.  Zinger’s improvised dog shelter for Monday was quickly overtaken by a drift on Tuesday (she was inside the cabin since then, but loves to run in the drifts).  The duck run has some paths created by both wind and duck feet.  The chicken coop is clean in the windward side, and just on the leeward side, but then a tall drift fills the rest of their pen.

Today, Norman’s is loaning me is testerone fueld maga snow blower and we’ll clear some paths and pens out.  Zinger will continue to explore her new home.

About the photo.  Every winter, I put a lighted tree on the dock of the small pond.  The first year, with no cabin here, it was an amazing site to see the lighted tree in the middle of nothing.  It’s become a tradition.  This year, the full moon rose just at sunset, so I snapped this pic with the camera.  If it had been a week later, there wold have been snow, too.

Moonrise over the cabin at Two Mile Ranch

Moonrise over the cabin at Two Mile Ranch

Introducing Zinger

December 6th, 2009 § 2

Zinger

Zinger

One of my neighbor’s sons bought the red truck last winter.  His other son called me this week to ask if I was interested in adopting his dog.  He brought her by on Saturday and she’s now part of the Two Mile Ranch.  She’s a two year old Australian Shepard

I was impressed with how well she minded me and how well she related to the neighbor’s son.  He clearly took great care of her and I’m sure it is tough to let her go.  He was living near a nearby town, and the dog enjoyed running into the town limits, which created some problems. So now, Zinger has 80 acres to patrol and play in.  She was raised with ducks and chickens, and the test Saturday was put put her in the pen with the ducks and chickens here.  She ignored them, sniffed around, but left them alone.

So…. meet Zinger.

Saying Grace

October 14th, 2009 § 1

"Grace" by Enstrom 1918 Photograph

"Grace" by Enstrom 1918 Photograph

The tradition of saying Grace – a prayer or expression of thanksgiving prior to a meal has personal meaning this week.

As I gathered each of the first 14 meat chickens I raised, I held each one, talked to it, and thanked it for allowing me to take care of it and for being part of my meals for the next year.  My friends, Eli and Caroline and their family, dressed them for me and I picked them up tonight.  30 more are still growing and will go to “freezer camp” in a few more weeks.

Earlier in the day, the remaining chickens were hiding in the shelter – a red tailed hawk as too close for their comfort but when I walked near the pen, the hawk flew away and into the trees….I’m reminded that I share this land.

Tonight, I vacuum sealed the whole birds for the freezer and one of the birds was in pieces, so I grilled the breast for dinner tonight. I thought about the Enstrom photo of the old man over a simple meal and I again said thanks for the many blessings living a small farm life shares with me.

If you are curious, naked chicken photo below:

IMG_4028

Three of the chickens headed to "freezer camp"

Autumn’s here: random bits and lose ends

October 13th, 2009 § 0

IMG_3561I carry a small Moleskine yearly planner in my jacket pocket or my truck cab.  For October 1, I made the note to plug in the heat tapes on the water lines.  That was my first note to start thinking about Winter this year.

October 10, 60 miles north, Des Moines broke a record for the earliest 1 inch of snow fall.  All this week, the weather forecasters were predicting below freezing temps, but were not acknowledging a killing frost.  They updated the forecast Friday afternoon, so I brought in whar remained of the garden and sure enough, Saturday morning, the buckwheat planted for green manure in the open sections of garden space were wilted over.

Garden and kitchen notes: I harvested the remains of the basil and made a good batch of pesto with a chili pepper olive oil.  Somewhere in my past, I learned a trick of freezing pesto in an ice cube tray to make single use cubes.  I was rewarded with a tray and a half.   I also grabbed the balance of the peppers – this was not a great year for peppers, they matured late, so having 3 dozen peppers still green and not yet ripe in October is a plus.  I’ll cut them and vacuum seal and freeze them as they ripen on the window ledge the next few days.

Visitors:  I keep a fairly clean cabin, but have acquired voles in each cabin and the usual onslaught of cluster flies is earlier than last year. The powder traps I mentioned last year are helping, but with 17 windows between the two cabins, they are still thick.  I anticipate the cold will knock them down in the next few days.

Plumbing cures: I disconnected the outside faucet on the cabin, even though it has a freeze proof stop cock, its just as easy to disconnect it.  Also, but it is no surprise and earlier than I planned, the hose that fills the duck pool was frozen this morning.

Daily harvest

October 3rd, 2009 § 0

I’m packing and organizing for some media work at Farm Aid in St. Louis tomorrow.  I’ve also been working on fall projects and tonight we’re expecting a low in the mid 30’s.  Fall is quickly arriving.  For a brief post, I’m sharing a photo of the daily egg harvest.

From left to right: two Rouen eggs; two Cayuga eggs; one Indian Runner egg; one black sex link chicken egg; two Buff Orpington chicken eggs

From left to right: two Rouen eggs; two Cayuga eggs; one Indian Runner egg; one black sex link chicken egg; two Buff Orpington chicken eggs

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