Who's Your Daddy???

The baby chicks are now about 5 weeks old.  Remember when they were itty like this? http://www.farmwithoutaname.blogspot.com/2012/07/and-2nd-one-hatches.html  Fannie and Barry are growing like weeds, and their ever-protective momma, Ida Mae, has taught them to free range.  Fannie is a girl, and I'm pretty sure Barry is a roo.  I am quite attached to them, and contemplate daily what I'll do with 2 roos.  Only time will tell.

 They eat some corn from the garden...

 Crockpot looks over their work, making sure his flock gets enough of the good stuff.

Notice how orange and brown Fannie and Barry are?  It's because Ida is not their biological mother.  Mable, our RIR hen is, and I suspect, Hawk, is their father.  My friend Sheri took Hawk home to watch over her flock.  That's one of the many things I love about chickens.  Their ability to not give a hoot about biology, but to adopt babies, pellets and even adults into their flock as though they were blood.  Ida has taken care of these little ones as though she laid them herself.  It's truly an example to live by and to practice.  Not looking at the exterior package to determine worth.  I love that.  See, chickens can teach you quite a bit about unconditional, color blind love.  

The Awkward Stage...

The Dixie Chicks are now 3 weeks old, and have left the cute a fuzzy stage behind. They are now sporting the "dinosaur" look as I call it. Their feathers are really coming in, you can certainly tell in the picture above the Black Barred Rocks and Rhode Island Reds are just that. Black and red. They have huge feet compared to their bodies, and they like to stretch their necks and peer at you with a quizzical eye...

The black one here is Blanche. She's my favorite (for now). She is the one that is the most demonstrative and the one that is always the first to try a new treat. The two in the back are Ida Mae and Goldie.


Here are the girls eating their plain yogurt. I originally recycled a cup of strawberry Greek yogurt Pyper didn't finish, and they LOVED it, but with it having artificial sweeteners, I figured it may not be good for my ladies. So, I decided to go with plain yogurt for them. I also figured if I wasn't going to give artificial sweeteners to my chicks, I shouldn't/wouldn't feed it to my human chick either. Sorry, Pyper, you're going to get plain yogurt with fresh fruit in it from now on...





This RIR that is facing the camera is Myrle. She is a hoot. She's always on Blanche's heels and is her right wing gal.





You may be wondering where I'm coming up with these names. A while back, I started naming my animals after family members whose names were quite....antiquated. That's PC, right? Knowing I'd never name one of my children Mable, or Elmer, or Nelly, I've decided to honor my relatives by naming my much loved pets after them. The Dixie Chicks will all be named after my Grannie Iney's sisters and then other female relatives.





My Appendix mare, Iney, is named after my Grannie Iney, and her signature color was purple. So, my horse Iney's signature color is purple as well.

Last week we bought 4 goldfish for our water troughs. These two are the only 2 that have survived. Gold Member and Goldie. Willie and Willamina died. Gold Member and Goldie are thriving, and we realized it's because the horses were using their watering trough the last few weeks, so we were adding water, thus Oxygen, to the tank. The others up top didn't have any additional water, or shade, so they essentially cooked. Lesson's learned. We will add water to the troughs whether or not we are using them.

This is Smelly Nelly. She was named after one of my Grannie's sisters, Nelly. I added the Smelly part because she used to have a problem with gas...that's all I'll say about that.

This is Hammish, or Shannon's cat. He named him. He wanted to name our future son (if we ever have one, Hammish). I was horrified by this name, and decided when we adopted this kitty HE could be named Hammish instead. Whew! Dodged that bullet. Anyways, Hammish is our garden kitty. He lays in the garden for hours waiting, and watching for any movement. He normally takes care of any pests that venture out there. Here on the back deck, he likes to perch, because he have a perfect view of the garden below.

The Dixie Chicks!

Shannon and I (mostly Shannon) have been working hard on finishing the coop and brooder for the chicks. Shannon spent all day on Wednesday predator-proofing the coop. Tuesday night, I set up the brooder. Basically, it's just a 5 ft baby pool for the chick containment. I then put together a left over medium moving box and Shannon attached the legs, which was some left over trim work laying around in our barn. He attached the legs so the box would sit about 10 inches off the ground to provide a concentrated heat source for the chicks. He then cut a 6 inch hole on the top of the box to release the heat. I threaded the heat lamp cord up through the hole, and wrapped the cord around a spare piece of wood. This will allow us to regulate the temperature. Starting temp should be around 95 degrees and reduced 10 degrees/week. I used a 250 W red heat bulb. A red bulb is suggested to prevent excessive chick aggression. They literally can go coo-coo if a regular white light is used. Who knew??? Anyways, the piece of wood along the top of the box allows me to adjust the height of the heat lamp without worrying about clips, and such. I put down paper towels initially because I had read several accounts where newborn chicks mistake the pine shavings for food. This blocks up their intestines, and they die. So, as a precaution, I heeded their advice and used paper towels. We plan on switching to the shavings today, since they now know what is considered food.

*As a side note, if you follow this bedding advice, do not use newspaper. It leads to leg problems such as straddle leg. This is caused because the newspaper is too slick, and does not provide proper grip for the little legs.*

The chicken coop is a converted horse stall with access to the outside. Here, the door, with access to the barn aisle, needed to be re-evaluated. The top was open, so Shannon added this top dutch door, with a screen of hardware cloth. We don't suspect any hawks, owls or barn kitties will be able to break into the coop with this sturdy door. Also along the top line of the stall, Shannon added wood to seal off the coop from the inside of the barn. Again, to prevent any flying predators or curious cats from entering.

This iron guard was so the horses could look around and check out what's going on in the barn. Now, with a heavy screen behind it, it will provide outstanding cross-ventilation for the coop and prevent any flying or 4-legged critters from squeezing in. You may think this is excessive, but you will notice a bit of the ladder to the left of this picture. That is the ladder to the hay loft. I've seen our one, very adventurous cat, Smelly Nelly, climbing this ladder to get to the barn swallows that nest in our rafters. I wouldn't put it past her to climb the ladder, squeeze through the bars to eat the chicks. She's hard-core like that.

And, without further adieu....

Here are 3 of our "Dixie Chicks!" From Left to Right: The black one is a Barred Rock, the yellow one is a Buff Orpington, and the red one with stripes is a Rhode Island Red. I got 3 of each breed with a total of 9.

They finally discovered the feeder after Shannon had spread out their food on the paper towels. They were certainly happy little chicks!

The more they ate and drank, the more they poo'd. It was pretty gross, but hey, it happens!
I love hearing their little "Peep, Peep, Peeps" coming from the coop.

Just plain cute...but not for long...

This is me and Blanche. I had a Great Aunt named Blanche, and she had dark brown to black hair, so I thought it was appropriate. She also lived to be 102 years old...I wonder how long this little Blanche will live. hmmmmm....

Until next time, see ya!

THE END

Intro To Me

My husband, Shannon, and I have been married two years now. I often wonder, "How in the world did I end up in the mountains of rural Virginia?" Well, it's quite simple, really. He is a pharmacist and loved his job here in SW Va, and I was a program analyst in Northern Va and hated mine. So, naturally, I followed him to build our lives and buy our nameless farm. We had looked at what seemed like dozens of homes, and when we saw this old, but newly renovated Craftsman bungalow, none of the other houses had a chance. Needless to say, we fell in love with this home that was built in 1900. It was spring when we bought the house...if we only knew what was to come...

The house was perfect, or so we thought. It is perfect. Perfectly flawed, as only old homes can be. Our pipes froze in the winter, the baseboard heat didn't keep up with the demand of below freezing temperatures, and in January of last year, we got an electric bill of $968! That was our first winter in our home. Oh, and we had a newborn baby that we had to keep warm. Baseboard heat and 10 foot ceilings don't mix.

We have fared better this winter. We had a heat pump put in (thank God!), a gas fireplace put in the family room and a wood burning stove put in the basement in case of power outages. That, and the fact that this winter has been far milder than last year's, we haven't suffered too badly.

We have just under 10 acres, so for all intents and purposes, we will call it 10 acres. 10 acres of rolling hills of pasture, some very steep meadows, a creek, and a huge old barn that once housed sheep, cattle and various other farm critters. Now, the barn is home to Anna, my Paint/Quarter Horse mare, her filly, Abby, a solid black Paint yearling and Iney, a 16.1 hh Appendix mare. In May we are expecting our first chicks to be added to the barn and hopefully not to the dinner plates of resident hawks, owls and barn cats.

All of this happening on the beautiful "gentleman's farm" with no name. Shannon and I have been racking our brains for catchy names, family names, names that make people ask what it means, anything, but nothing sounds right. So, as of now, two years after buying this farm, we have the farm without a name. I keep thinking that one day, I'll hear something, the clouds will part, angels will sing, and I will have found the name for our nameless farm.

So, for those of your out there in never, never cyber land, I ask you, "What constitutes a respectable, catchy, farm name?" I may never have the answer, but while I'm waiting, I'll share with you all the situations I put my poor husband through, funny antidotes of my daughter's, the sad ignorance I portray daily in owning a farm, and my love for God, my family and animals.