Denise Domning writes, makes jelly and watches the weeds overtake her garden on her 8 acre farm in Cornville while tending to her 100 turkeys, 3 cows, 20-some chickens, 2 dogs and 8 cats.
Well, there were no babies for Babs this week. I'm not sure what this means. It could be she's not pregnant but would like to be. Or it could mean she got pregnant a week later when she revisited Buddy. Or perhaps she just likes the idea of a baby box. I don't think rabbits can have hysterical pregnancies.
There are going to be baby bunnies here on the farm! Despite Buddy Bunny's lack of experience and a wayward sense of direction, he achieved what he was meant to do and created soon-to-be-born progeny.
Like the returning sunlight after the solstice, joy is beginning to once again creep over the farm. Bear is finally recovering from Moosie's death.
A few warm afternoons and all of a sudden everything is thinking spring has arrived. Of course, "warm" is subjective in this case. Since New Year's Day morning chores have required me to walk out in temps below freezing.
I'm sitting at my desk, looking out the window at thick dark clouds. Rain, or even snow is predicted for Christmas day. That has me thinking about moving my truck across the road. This is because I didn't move my truck last year when we had an unusually heavy snowstorm for New Year's Eve. I was stuck on the property for three days because snow became ice and my driveway has a steep angle. Not that being stuck at home is a hardship. This year, I took the prediction seriously and stocked up for everyone. Lord knows I won't starve to death, and neither will my animals.
Well, I did it. I got Radha her own puppy. This past week Bear hasn't been able to play with her at all and she was clearly bored.
I finally got the first rabbit tractor finished! Is it perfect? No, it's definitely a prototype, although I fully intend to house a rabbit in it. However, it has square corners and is solid, and light enough to be pulled easily across bumpy ground. And it is so completely covered by wire (some of it pieces I hand wove together) that I can't imagine any predator in the world breaking into it. This includes Radha the puppy, who is at the top of my predator list.
Hey, if cats can have their own word for a situation gone seriously wrong, then sheep certainly deserve a word to describe yesterday.
That's right. It's weaning time. Yesterday afternoon I locked the seven little lambikins into one of the alleyways, away from their mothers. No more sheep milk for them!
Yes, I'm borrowing from Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland, but that snippet is the only piece of poetry (if that's poetry) that I know, and I kept repeating it today, "Chins" being the way I was saying the shortened breed name for my new rabbits.