Breaking news: Writer surfaces after a month away from her blog

...and the blogosphere breathes a collective sigh of relief. Seriously, though, I feel like it's been more like a year. This was not a planned sabbatical or vacation or even garden-variety procrastination. Actually, I cut my hand badly several weeks ago, and it is more or less immobilized in a bulky, truly uncomfortable splint. I'm supposed to keep it on at all times except to shower, until the end of the month; then I re-visit the orthopedist to find out whether the darn thing will require surgery.

By the  way, this happened 8 days before David was scheduled to be out of town for a week. I had been looking forward to a week to myself on the farm, knocking out query letters and other writing tasks in between bobcat patrol and collecting eggs. Several generous and kind family members spent part of the week up here, helping me out with things best done with two hands.

The good news is that I cut my left hand and I am right-handed; on the other hand (sorry), for the moment I can only type one-handed. The embarrassing thing is that I seem to type almost as fast with one hand as I used to do with two hands. This is frustrating, as I have recently been working hard on improving my typing speed. Oh, well! At least I am already in the habit of writing my drafts longhand. And now that David is back and handling most of the chores, I am throwing myself into my writing with a burst of pent-up energy.

Anyway, let's see, what else is new around here? It has been an unusual July weather-wise. Generally here in the Rain Shadow, July and August can be relied upon to be warm (sometimes hot) and dry. For the past 3 years we've had a week or so of 90-degree-plus temperatures in July; this year, we've had 2 (yes, TWO) days where it panted and groaned its way to around 80. We have had a few other mostly sunny days, but more days like today: cool, foggy, with rain showers at times. While it's allowing me to spend less time watering in the garden, it's not doing much for my beans and tomatoes.

I identified a new (to me) bird a few days ago, a Northern Goshawk. (Unfortunately, I observed it in the act of killing one of our 8-week-old New Hampshire chicks.) This brings to 64 the number of wild bird species we've identified on our property. With all the second-growth woods around us, and our two large ponds that attract lots of migratory waterfowl and other birds, it's like living in our own private nature preserve.

Thanks for hanging in there these past few weeks while I've been offline. I'm back now, and if not better than ever, at least I'm a more careful typist. Hope you all are having a great weekend!

Ducks have started laying again, and a drake goes missing

Our wonderful Khaki Campbell and Blue Swedish ducks have started laying eggs again, after their usual mid-winter break. We've just been getting one egg a day, though, which makes me suspect that one or more of them are laying somewhere other than in their coops. (I guess we'll find out in a month or so, when a duck comes walking into the yard followed by a troop of ducklings.) Maybe this coming weekend's shift to Daylight Savings Time will make a difference? (Ha. As if you aren't all perfectly aware of my opinion about DST!)

As you probably remember, the Alder Wood Bistro loves our duck eggs, so they are happy to see them coming in. The higher viscosity of the egg white, compared with chicken eggs, makes duck eggs a good choice for recipes that call for separating and beating the whites, such as the Bistro's flourless brownie (Chocolate Bliss).

The other day, the ducks headed down the hill to the bog, one of our two large ponds. The ice that covers the bog for most of the winter (it's in a low area that gets little sun during the short winter days) had finally started melting, and a small part of the bog was clear. The ducks spent much of the afternoon happily splashing, dabbling, and fraternizing with the seasonal population of wild Mallards and Mergansers.

During their frolic on the bog, I heard a lot of noise coming from that direction, and it seemed to me that it was some kind of alarm or alert call. As we had seen bobcats twice just the day before, I grabbed a gun and headed down toward the bog. The ducks were indeed on high alert, but although I walked around for quite a while, I didn't see any trails of feathers  that would indicate a cat attack. I decided not to worry about it at the time.

That night, though, I noticed a duck was missing. (They had come up the hill again about an hour before dark.) They were just going into their coops when I saw this, and I didn't get a close enough look to see if it was a duck or a drake. Since the ducks had started laying, I thought it was slightly possible that they had a nest out in the bushes somewhere and had accumulated a clutch. This usually happens at least once a year, but generally more in the late spring and summer months. Anyway, keeping in mind the alarm calls of that afternoon, I thought it more likely that a duck had gotten snatched by a bobcat, or possibly an eagle.

The next morning I took a closer look at the ducks (who had stayed up in the yard rather than go to the bog), and saw that one of the Blue Swedish drakes was the missing one.The fact that the other ducks weren't inclined to go swim in the pond seems to confirm that it was a predator attack. Usually bobcats and cougars leave a trail of feathers behind as they retreat with a bird, but so far I haven't found the trail.

We love our ducks, and their eggs, and it's always upsetting to lose a bird. Fortunately we have lost very few ducks to predators, and it seems that the ducks are smart enough to stay away from the dangerous area now. We're thankful that they do come back to their coops at night, where we know they are safe from the nocturnal predators.

Gilts behaving badly

After a hard day of free-ranging, the Three 

Little Pigs snooze in the turkey roost area. 
(Photo by David B. Miller)

"It's like three of the most gorgeous [gilts] raising hell."
-Molly Shannon as Mary Catherine Gallagher in SNL's hilarious film Superstar


Oh, those pigs. Sigh. The Three Little Pigs (can I just say that they are NOT afraid of the Big Bad Wolf, so you needn't e-mail me), unlike our first four Tamworths, are determined to prove that their reputation as escape artists is well deserved. No matter how we adjust the two strands of electric rope, they continue to find new ways to get out. During their first week here, we actually saw them jump over the fence. Frankly, I never imagined pigs could jump; it was quite a sight, believe you me.

The Three Little Pigs are all gilts; that is, female pigs less than a year old. Why this batch are so different from the others we've had is a mystery to us. It's not as if they are hungry and just busting out looking for food. It's not that they are simply adventurous little things that want to see the world. We're rapidly coming to the conclusion that they are breaking out pretty much because they can. Apparently being pasture-raised isn't enough for some pigs; they want to literally free-range like all the birds do. At least they don't seem inclined to disappear into the woods, thank goodness.

I figured out the other day that they respond to a waving broom much more positively than to waving arms. For some reason it is relatively easy to herd them back into their yard with the broom (I did this by myself a few days ago, much to everyone's surprise). Not that I'm wasting time analyzing the whys and wherefores; it's good enough for me that I've found something that works. I'd much prefer to find a way to prevent them escaping in the first place, but what the heck, they're going to be slaughtered in a couple of months anyway.

Poor little pigs, they seem so happy when they're running free and turning over the birds' feeders and rooting up my garden. Gilts, you know, just want to have fun.

Tamworth pork: The other red meat?

We've been quite busy this past week or so dealing with several hundred pounds of wonderful Tamworth pork. The two pigs we had brought home last June at 7 weeks of age had grown steadily, happily rooting and grazing on pasture as well as enjoying top-quality organic grains. We knew they were bigger than the two Tams we had had slaughtered last year, but we were fairly astounded to learn that they were actually quite a lot larger than we expected.

Last Thursday, we met with Gabriel (chef at the Alder Wood Bistro in Sequim) and Sean (one of his cooks) to begin the process of butchering the hogs. The Bistro is closed every January, affording the crew there a much-needed and definitely well-deserved vacation. Although Gabriel was just buying one of the two pigs, he kindly allowed us to use his cooler to store both carcasses for a few days while we cut it up and made decisions about how to use it all. This was a huge help to us, and we're very grateful for the use of his kitchen space and his knowledgeable help in butchering the pigs.

As I mentioned, the pigs were much bigger than we'd expected. They had been broken down into the large primal cuts: Head, back leg (ham), front leg (shoulder), loin, and side (belly). When we heaved one of the 35-pound loins onto the work table, we weren't too surprised to see a good thick layer of beautiful back fat under the skin. Once the guys had taken out the tenderloin, which lies against the baby back ribs parallel to the spine, they began dividing the gorgeous loin into thick chops. I was so interested in this process (which I'd only been involved in once before, when we slaughtered our first two pigs last year) that it was a few minutes before I noticed something: not only was the meat much darker red than is usual with pork, the meat was beautifully marbled and, to my eye at least, looked more like beef than pork.

Gabriel and Sean worked away at boning and cutting up the pork for several hours. Later in the afternoon, everyone took a break and Gabriel cooked up some of the meat for us. He took some boneless pieces from three different cuts, seasoned them with a little truffle salt, and grilled them quickly. Sliced thinly and served with a mixed-greens salad, the pork was (as my visiting sister Lindy said) "a revelation." The appearance, texture and flavor was actually reminiscent of a good steak. I don't think I had ever had pork cooked this way, and it was truly delicious.

So there you go, folks. Tamworth pork is the new beef, at least while it lasts at the Alder Wood Bistro. If you're within a few hours' drive of Sequim, believe me, it's worth the trip to eat here. The Bistro is open Tuesday through Saturday, 11 AM till 3 PM for lunch, and 5 PM to 9 PM for dinner. Reservations are a good idea if you're coming for dinner; call (360) 683-4321.

By the way, if you get out here to the Bistro soon, they might still have some of the fantastic pates that Gabriel made using the Tamworth livers. Just sayin'.

Bobcats with chicken breath, and other bedtime stories

The past couple of days have been quite exciting, in a man-versus-jungle sort of way. After seeing a large bobcat out near the edge of the canyon in the morning, we later saw what appeared to be a mother bobcat and at least one of its babies. Evidently it was the day to train young Bobby to hunt. David actually saw the youngster grab a chicken and try to run off with it. It had to hold its head up high to keep the chicken from dragging on the ground, hampering its escape attempt by affecting its ability to see where it was going. David made some noise close to the kitty, who immediately dropped the chicken (which was apparently unhurt other than losing a large wad of feathers) and ran into the berry bushes.

Meanwhile, I was stationed, with my camera, about 40 yards away on the south side of the black walnut tree, expecting the mother bobcat (with or without Bobby) to head that way. Sure enough, Mama came out of the brush about 25 feet from me, just the other side of the tree. She saw me right away and shot off across the shooting range into the berry bushes on the north side of the hill. Alas, I wasn't able to get a photo, she was too quick; I live in hope, however.

Looking around the area where young Bobby had grabbed the pullet, we discovered several piles of feathers, all looking like they came from the New Hampshire pullets. We will have to do a head count tonight when they're all tucked in, to see how many we might have lost; hopefully very few. We do realize, though, that we need to do some serious strategizing as far as predator control is concerned.

Bobcats like to hunt at the edge of the woods, sneaking up on their quarry and staying under cover until the last minute, then jumping out to grab the unsuspecting prey. We've actually witnessed this, even in our front yard; the birds start squawking, we take a look, just in time to see a cat jump over the fence, snatch a chicken in its mouth, then leap back over the fence. It's amazingly quick, and honestly, we have to admire the beauty and grace of these animals, even if we don't always appreciate their lunch choices.

Keeping in mind their hunting habits, we are continuing our efforts to clear away the brush, low-hanging branches, and all the nettles, bracken ferns and other vegetation that grew like crazy during the mild, wet weather of last spring. We figure we'll at least make it harder for the cats to sneak up on the free-ranging birds. Short of completely confining the chickens and turkeys in fenced areas, which we really don't want to do, this seems to be our best strategy. It's helped a lot just to do some reading on the subject, to understand the hunting habits of bobcats and other predators. We also plan to hatch more birds in the spring, to account for occasionally sharing some with the native wildlife.

This afternoon, when it's warmed up a bit, I will be back out there with the sickle, pruners and Swedish brush hook. What the heck, I can always use the exercise.

Turkeys as guard animals??

 The black bear in question, just outside our front yard.

Well, yet another new experience with our Midget White turkeys this morning. Just a little while ago, around 9:30 AM, I was in the living room, about to start my writing practice for the day. David had gone upstairs to take a short nap, and it is usually fairly quiet this time of day.

After just a few minutes, the turkeys started making noise in the front yard. Most of the flock of 19 was out there, and they were making that particular noise that we've come to recognize as their warning that a predator was on the ground nearby. (Usually when we've heard this sound and checked it out, it turned out to be deer. They make a very different noise when an aerial predator is overhead.) I stood up and looked out the window, and I could see the flock on high alert, standing still with necks all stretched upward in the same direction, loudly sounding the alarm. I figured there were deer on the other side of the split-rail fence, munching on vetch; lately we've seen a doe and her two fawns in that area frequently.

I opened the front door to get a better view; since David was trying to sleep, I was hoping to get the turkeys to quiet down. I couldn't believe what I saw: a good-sized BLACK BEAR just at the north end of the front yard, about 75 feet from where I stood. It was walking right up into the yard, and all the turkeys were just standing there, squawking loudly, making no move to get away.

I called up to David, and at the same time grabbed my camera and headed upstairs. I hoped to get a photo before the bear left, and I knew I'd have a better vantage point from upstairs. The bear, hearing me call to David, turned away and headed back toward the road and the edge of the canyon. I was just in time to get one decent photo before it disappeared into the trees (I'll post the photo soon). By then the turkeys were beginning to calm down.

I, on the other hand, was having a bit of an adrenaline rush; this was only the third time we've actually seen a bear up here, and both the other times it's been down by the pond, a couple hundred yards from the house. Our property is bordered almost entirely by State land, with our nearest neighbor two miles down the hill, so naturally we have lots of wildlife around. It is very surprising to see a bear so close to the house, especially in the middle of the morning.

It seems to me that it wasn't until this year that we became aware of the turkeys' early-warning systems. We were familiar with the roosters calling out to the hens when an aerial predator was about, warning them to get under cover (an amazing sight to witness), but the turkeys are very consistent in letting us know when a ground visitor arrives. We've even seen the turkeys chasing deer out of the yard!

As we head deeper into the autumn, and the food sources so plentiful in summer become less abundant, we will be keeping our eyes open for hungry predators who show interest in our birds. And we're very grateful for the efforts of the turkeys to help in that process.

Keeping the ducks safe at night

We have two ponds here at the farm, and one is a large natural peat bog. It is down the hill, below the woodshed to the east of the main house, and bordered on three sides by trees. Its situation makes it a natural sanctuary for many kinds of wild birds; we have identified 63 bird species.

Of course, being a good-sized body of water, it is a magnet for ducks, including ours. Because we let the ducks free-range during the day along with the chickens and turkeys, we expected that sooner or later, they would wander down the hill and find the bog. The question was, what would they do then? Would they come back up the hill to get their dinner and be tucked in at night? Or would they decide that life on the water was pretty nice for ducks, and camp out?

Some of both, it turns out. There were times when we would just stand at the top of the hill by the woodshed and call them (I'm not kidding), and they would come marching up the hill within a few minutes. Then there were the nights when David would spend quite a lot of time in the rowboat, chasing them around the pond. (This sometimes led to colorful language and threats, usually involving firearms.) It was nice to tell ourselves that they would eventually come back when they got hungry, but we also knew that they could last for quite a while on the rich frog population in the bog.

Besides worrying about the ducks being safe when they camped out, we also were obviously not getting the eggs we needed from them.This is especially disturbing now, when we have so many young ducks just starting to lay; once they get in the habit of laying somewhere away from the coops, it's almost impossible to get them to change their routine.

Then, early this week, an amazing thing happened. For some unexplained reason, the ducks (who have been happily racing down the hill to the bog every morning as soon as the coop doors are opened) started coming up the hill, on their own, about half an hour before they would normally be hunkering down for the night. For four nights in a row now, we haven't even had to stand at the top of the hill, calling and singing (not kidding about that, either) to them; they've just been coming up, gobbling down some grain, drinking water as if they haven't been on a pond all day, then letting us herd them into the coops.

What a relief! We love our ducks, some of which we've had for over two years now, and we just want to keep them healthy, happy and safe. We're very grateful now, as we tuck them in and tell them a little story, that they've figured out that we just want what's best for them.

Fall colors and winter coats

It's 71 here as I type (uncharacteristically) at 4:00 PM. The birds are showing signs of nearing the end of the moulting season, and showing off their perfect new feathers as they sunbathe. Meanwhile, the trees around the farm are showing signs of the change of season: The leaves of the vine maples are rapidly turning shades of gold, and the black cottonwood leaves flash their silver undersides in the slightest breeze. The trees are already starting to shed their fashionable summer looks. October rains are just around the corner; I'm thankful that this year's early moult has supplied the birds with their new down coats before the winter chill takes hold.

Grandparents again....

Yes, it's happened again: One our little Nankin bantam hens came out of the bushes yesterday with 3 chicks, which had clearly hatched quite recently. We were just getting into the car to run into town to do some errands when I thought I heard baby bird-like peeping nearby. It only took a minute to find the mama and babies; then David discovered the nest, which still had unhatched eggs in it! One of the eggs was pipped (the chick had broken a hole in it) and although the egg was a bit cool, we could see the chick was moving.

Fortunately I had just cleaned out one of the broody coops, and it had fresh straw in it. I went inside to get a feeder and drinker, while David started gathering up chicks and eggs. In just a few minutes, mama, babies and eggs were happily settled in a nest out of the rain and away from potential predators.

Chickens incubate their eggs for 21 days, so this hen had been outside in the bushes, with very little shelter from the weather, for 3 weeks. Normally hens will get up off the nest once a day; they prefer to poop away from the eggs, and also they like to get something to eat and drink every so often, and maybe take a quick dust bath. These little Nankins go broody quite frequently, and are very attentive and protective moms. They also seem to prefer to nest away from the coops, and they free-range all day, so it's not all that uncommon for one of them to show up with a brood of chicks.

We decided to just leave them be for a day or so, then we will check to see how many additonal chicks have hatched. As we recently sold some of our Nankins to the Oregon Zoo in Portland, we were thinking about hatching some more anyway. And as usual, the Nankins are a step ahead of us!

Young Khaki Campbell ducks have started laying!

Well, surprise, surprise! Our young Khaki Campbell ducks are already starting to lay eggs, at about 4-1/2 months of age. We were more or less expecting this to happen sometime in October, so we're quite pleased. The eggs so far have been small (usual when they first start to lay), but they will be up to full size before too long.

The Alder Wood Bistro, the wonderful Sequim restaurant that has been buying our eggs for more than 2 years, loves our duck eggs. Their baker uses them in desserts such as the Chocolate Bliss (a flourless brownie), and in the house quiche. The word is that duck eggs are "richer and creamier" than chicken eggs, and the higher viscosity of the egg whites makes them ideal for use in recipes that call for beating the whites separately.

We made the decision this year to increase the size of our duck laying flock. This was partly due to the increasing business at the Bistro, and also partly due to the word getting out that there is a source for locally-produced organic duck eggs. The Khaki Campbell is quite the egg-laying machine, averaging up to 340 eggs per year! They're beautiful birds, too.

In our experience, ducks are somewhat easier to manage than other poultry we've had, and they're definitely smart birds. Like the chickens and turkeys, the ducks have their own unique, endearing (and sometimes infuriating) mannerisms. For example, they have this way of looking up at you sideways; for some reason it always reminds me of Princess Diana, although the way the ducks do it never fails to make me laugh. It's especially cute when the little ducklings do this, but just as engaging when 7 or 8 adults are looking at you that way all at the same time.

It's terrific that the young 'uns are starting to lay. It's a sign that I need to start planning now for the spring breeding season. I have a feeling it's going to be a busy one!

Heritage turkeys are more sustainable...and they have more fun

The past couple of years heritage turkeys have grabbed some well-deserved spotlight time. A search of the Internet shortly before last Thanksgiving revealed an impressive number of growers offering these turkeys for sale. If you were one of the many who have shelled out a few extra bucks for one of these popular birds, what made you choose a heritage breed? Novelty? The trendiness of it all? Before you prepared and ate it, did you really know what makes a heritage breed different or better than the normal frozen supermarket variety?

As noted in a previous post, a "heritage" breed is a purebred, or standard, bird, while the usual commercial turkey is a faster-growing hybrid. Heritage breeds are also defined as breeds that are "naturally mating" types. Yes, you heard right: Heritage breeds mate naturally; hybrids, mostly owing to their unnaturally large breasts, cannot mate. They must be artificially inseminated.

Apparently this minor inconvenience is offset by the faster growth that brings them to your grocer's freezer 2-3 months faster than the purebreds.

If you are serious about learning more about where your food comes from, start to think beyond the garden or greenhouse. See if you can find someone who raises poultry, and start asking questions. If you live in a big city, ask at your local grocery or co-op. If your store doesn't offer heritage breed turkeys, check localharvest.org for a source close to you.

By the way, "heritage" applies just as much to chickens as to turkeys (as well as other types of livestock). Many of these historically important breeds are now endangered. Chickens in particular have had a tough time since the ridiculously fast-growing Cornish-Plymouth Rock hybrid was developed in the 1950s. If you're like most people, you eat chicken more frequently than turkey. There are just as many good reasons to buy and enjoy heritage chicken....if you can find it.

More about heritage chickens in an upcoming post.