I was reminded again this morning how brilliantly colored the world really 
is. The green and blue that met my eyes when I awoke were almost cartoonish. A welcome change from the dreary shades of gray. We’re supposed to get two days of sun. I’ll be busy weeding the gardens and doing all of the outdoor activities that I need to get done.
Raising chickens thus far has definitely been a learning experience. I’ve not only gained knowledge about chickens but I
feel that I’ve also gained insight into the community of “chicken people”. Those who raise chickens for whatever reason.
Aside from chickens, I’ve learned several things so far this summer.
For instance, I learned this morning that being pooped on by a snake is STINKY business! Young Master now has a pet snake that Willhi caught for him. It’s in a glass tank in the garage. When I went to the chicken coop this morning I found 
another garden snake about the same size as Young Master’s snake. I thought he might like to have two snakes. So I picked it up and was trying to unwind it from the fence when it pooped. PHEW! That was enough for me to drop him. What a big stink for a little snake! I had to go wash my hands.
Another tidbit I learned is that we have a large moth in Maine called a Cecropia Moth. I found it at work and brought it home to identify it. I’d seen the large, greenish Luna Moth with its golden feather antennae and half moons on its wings. But this moth, which was similar in size, was red and also had feather antennae and half moons on its wings. I’d never seen one before.
I’ve learned that I’m afraid of lightning. Not thunder storms. Just lightning. Just when it’s real close. I’ve seen houses burn flat that were struck by lightning. We’ve had two major thunder storms this past week. One night lightning struck a 
tree across the street from our church and split it in two.
I’ve learned that a billion is a lot of money. A trillion must be ever so much more. God help us.
And I’ve learned that the sun is always shining somewhere even if it’s not shining on you. Is there such thing as sun envy?
<— This picture shows 1000 tiny beads in the bottom of the tube being held. The second small tube is nearly full with one million beads. The third giant tube is nearly full with one billion tiny beads.
Happy Independence Day!
Our Fourth of July plans have been hindered somewhat by the rain. GH had to work this morning so I took Young Master and Little Maiden to the big parade in town. It rained but not a down pour.
I’m starting to think that we’re turning into cold-blooded amphibians. Neither of the kids brought a sweater or coat and we didn’t bring an umbrella. So we just sat on 
the cold, wet sidewalk and endured the rain on our bare heads and arms. There were no complaints about the rain except that Dapper (who came with us to the parade) was starting to smell like “wet dog”.
We enjoyed the parade and I was surprised to see a bantam rooster leading the way for the cooperative extension!
Our “barbeque” was cooked inside on the Foreman Grill while it thundered outside. There is still no sun in sight in the forecast. It’s really starting to take its toll on Maine’s agricultural businesses. The state may have to declare a major disaster for our loss of crops.
My friend, Rose, invited me to her house today to look at her flower gardens. Little Maiden went with me. Rose’s gardens are beautiful! I was truly inspired. I’d love to have flowers around the house. Even though there was no sun, the brightly colored flowers lit up the yard. Rose is giving a ladies ice cream social in her garden in a couple of weeks. I can’t wait to attend!
Yesterday afternoon I was able to go see Willhi. I brought Leann with me because Willhi wanted to check her over. It turns out that Leann choked on a slug.
There was nothing that could be done. And nothing that I can do. How do I keep my chickens from being gluttons and trying to swallow slugs that are too big for them? Willhi assured me that I can’t. I’m concerned.
We are overrun with slugs. We have had so much rain and there is no end in sight. Even at the moments when it’s not raining, it is cloudy and foggy. There is no sun or heat to drive the slugs back into the earth. You can’t take one step without squishing two or three slugs.
The chickens knew that Leann was missing last night. I sat in the coop for a long time with them. Dolly flew into my lap immediately and cuddled into my arm. She hasn’t done that in a while. Patsy walked around and around the coop, calling and calling. Faith kept eyeing me and finally flew into my lap with Dolly. Faith is so timid that she never lets me even pick her up. She still wouldn’t let me pat her, but she wanted to be in my lap.
Maybe they missed Leann. Maybe they were comforting me. Maybe I’ll never know. But I miss Leann and I was comforted.
Today is a sad day. Leann is no longer with us. She died this morning.
There was no warning. There was no sign of illness. This morning I went out to open the hatch into the run as I do every morning. Everyone ran outside while I checked their water and food. I picked up Reba because she’s always at my feet and loves to be patted and cuddled. Then a commotion out in the run caught my 
eye. Leann had fallen down and was stretching out her neck with her beak open wide. It almost looked like she was choking. Then she convulsed and flipped over on her back. She was gone just like that. I took her out of the pen right away so the other chickens wouldn’t molest her.
The kids are mildly sad. They understand death and want to bury Leann in the backyard. I think I’m having a harder time with it because I take care of the chickens. Did I do something wrong? Could I have prevented this? Is there a threat to the other chickens?
I’ve already emptied the coop of old shavings and put down fresh, clean shavings. I cleaned the waterer and re-filled it. I went into the run and found some things that the chickens had unearthed that could be harmful if it was ingested. I removed them and will be checking frequently.
Death leaves a dark, morose feeling that lingers in the atmosphere like the rain clouds that we’ve had to deal with for two weeks now. The seven day forecast is more rain. I knew that fatalities were a real possibility when I got my chicks. I’ll have to accept it and move on. It would just be easier if I had some sunshine.
Dapper’s relationship with the chickens is still unsettled. He’s very happy that they are no longer in the house. (Although he found chicken droppings to be a tasty treat.) He no longer has to be gated into just one room anymore and he doesn’t suffer fits of anxiety when a chick abandoned her brooder. Dapper is the only pet in the house again and he gets all the attention. Good or bad.
When we go to the coop, Dapper hates to be left out. At first I wasn’t sure how he’d react to eight chicks running helter-skelter around him but I couldn’t bear his whining for long.
I opened the door to let Dapper in. Immediately he ran to my side, tail wagging, and sat down. I wondered how long it would take for the chicks to notice him and what Dapper would do about it. It wasn’t long.
At times a chick would get close to the dog. Dapper would stretch out his neck to nose the chicken. Often the chick would turn to face him, nose to beak. Then she’d turn and run off.
After a little while, Dapper got brave and would take a step or two to sniff at a chick. That’s when the trouble started.
A chickens number one preoccupation is finding food. She spends most of her time eating, scratching, pecking and chasing bugs. So when Dapper stood up, his floppy, long-haired ears just looked like so many worms that the chicks couldn’t resist. They flocked him, pulling strands of hair on his ears. This surprised him and then POW! He was pecked right on the nose!
After that, Dapper was very careful to keep his face hidden behind someone’s legs. Soon, he gave up and asked to leave the coop.
I guess Dapper has a healthy understanding of what being “hen-pecked” means now.
(The picture shows Dapper’s surprised expression with his ears standing straight up after being pecked by the Leghorn.)
It’s raining again. It has been for two days now. And it’s supposed to keep raining for another two days. 
I find it so hard to be productive when it’s rainy. Especially because all I really want to do is curl up with a cup of coffee and a good book!
Well, these are some things that I need to do. Maybe seeing them in black and white will give me some incentive.
Maybe I should stop there. That should be enough to get me through a few days. Hmmmm… I wonder if I can really get it all done by Monday night. Maybe if I can recruit a little help and have a full time cheering squad. I’ll mark off things as I go.
June 22, 2009 Note: Looks like the rain will continue through Wednesday now. That’s an additional two days to the four days of rain we’ve just had. I guess that gives me a bit more time to get things accomplished in the house. I think we all feel like drowned rats around here…
I recently read a book called “A Small Farm In Maine” by Terry Silber. This book was published in 1988 and, as the subtitle puts it, is about “how one couple built a self-sustaining life in the country.”
Terry and her husband, Mark, both worked and lived in Boston. On a whim, they decide to buy an abandoned farm in Maine near Terry’s parents. They fix up the farmhouse to make it inhabitable and visit every weekend to get away from the hustle and bustle of the big city.
On discovering abandoned flower beds that still grew hardy perennials and learning about the history of their farm from the neighbors, Terry and Mark become curious about horticulture. They ask questions about plants and gardens of their farming neighbors and read every piece of literature on the subject as they can find. Eventually, with the help of friendly neighbors, they clear a piece of land on their farm and plant their first vegetable garden.
Even though Terry and Mark maintain their careers in the city, they become more and more interested in the lives of Maine farmers. For several years the couple continue their weekend trips to Maine, finding the work on the farm a perfect balance to their work in Boston.
After the first year of gardening, where they have more crop than they can consume, preserve, and give away, Terry and Mark decide to join the local farmers at the farmers’ markets. They are ecstatic to find that they can make money doing weekend farming! They then start planning how to garden more efficiently, and put their city talents to work by designing a layout that will make their vegetable display look more attractive and by trying to market their produce.
Being looked on by some as “hippies” and “rich city folk”, not all of the local farmers like the radical ideas that the Silbers come up with. The gap between the weekend farmers and the farmers that depend on their produce to support them through the long harsh winters can be larger than some would think.
Terry and Mark stick to their instinct and test new and unconventional methods. These include growing more exotic vegetables and herbs for sale, making and distributing pamphlets on how to use those foods, and growing without the use of pesticides. Growing strictly organically was virtually unheard of at the time and even considered risky. But the Silbers’ personal convictions guide ever decision they make.
While Terry and Mark become more involved on the farm they become less satisfied with their work in the city. Is it really possible to have a self-sustaining life on a farm in Maine? The Silbers put the question to the test, crunch the numbers, and then, with sheer determination, make the permanent move to Maine.
The story continues with their first Maine winter, the physical and financial struggles, how Terry and Mark turn their small farm into a viable business, and the ins and outs of working relationships.
As I read Terry’s account of these many years of her life, I felt that I was a witness to how their business evolved over that time. Starting as vegetable farmers, Terry and Mark finally settled their main business on growing everlastings, drying flowers and herbs, and selling decorative products made from the produce of the farm.
It was exciting to read about places so familiar to me like Lewiston, Auburn, Rumford, and Portland. I jumped on the web to see if I could locate their business. What fun to actually go visit a place that you’ve only just read about! Sadly, I found that the Silbers’ farm in Sumner closed just three years ago in 2006. Apparently, Terry Silber died of terminal cancer in 2003. For over three years Mark continued the business on his own, taking on all of Terry’s responsibilities while also fulfilling equally important duties outside of the farm. It just became too much for one person.
However, I feel as though I have gained tremendous knowledge and insight by reading “A Small Farm In Maine” and would recommend it to anyone who has a love for growing things!
It’s been the better part of a week since I first let the chicks out into their run. Things have been happening so fast around here that I haven’t had time to write it all.
Last Saturday was the only warm, sunny day in the middle of several rainy days. I hadn’t planned on letting the chicks into the run yet since they were still getting used to the coop as their new home. But when I went to check on the chicks that morning, the coop was already quite warm and steamy. So, I decided to open the hatch to the run to get the air circulating. I sat down on the plastic feed box to see what the chicks’ reaction would be.
As soon as they saw the open door, the chicks all ran over to it to investigate. No one was eager to be the first to explore. The grass inside the run had grown up quite tall and it looked like a jungle compared to the size of my little chicks.
I was sure Dolly would be the first to step out into the wilderness. As I watched I became more confident that she would lead the way. While some of the others seemingly lost interest and went back to the feeders, Dolly hopped up onto the edge of the opening. She stuck her head out as far as she could to see what she could see. Soon she became engrossed in playing tug-of-war with a long blade of grass that hung into the coop. While she and some of the others that joined her game were preoccupied, little Faith hopped up on the edge of the door casing and then jumped down into the grass.
Immediately there was a whole world in front of her filled with bugs! Soon Faith had the attention of all the other chickens who, one by one, joined her in the hunt for bugs. The leghorns, who are always the bravest, made their way out into the tall grass. The RI Reds were shy at first. Some of them would jump into the grass and then jump back into the coop several times until they were sure enough of themselves and their surroundings.
At dusk, when I went out to close their hatch, all of the chicks were already inside the coop and bedded down for the night. Instinct told them what to do and where to go.
In the mornings now, they all gather in front of the hatch and wait for me to open it. Then there is a great flutter of wings and a whirlwind of feathers and shavings as each chick rushes to be the first one out the door!
There are several worn paths in the tall grass now. The slug and mosquito population has diminished. And my chickens are getting fat and happy. What a life!
