I
wake up around 6:15 to COCKLEDOODLEDOO!
The roosters need to make sure everybody knows that it is officially
morning, and they take that responsibility seriously. Weary-eyed and still half-asleep, I eventually roll out of
bed and into my work clothes. As I
open the door of our tiny A-frame camper, I’m greeted not only by a temperate
post-summer breeze, but also by Bullet, the donkey. He stays out overnight, as his primary role is farm
bodyguard. He’ll chase off
coyotes, foxes, burglars, dogs… you name it. I hastily close the door behind me so that he doesn’t try to
attack Paisley, who is still lazing about belly-up on the bed. I have to pee, and the only usable
toilet is in Warring’s trailer, and I don’t want to wake her up. Trees it is! Bullet watches me curiously, almost judgmental.
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| Bullet hungrily waiting outside my door |
Feeding
time. Not for me, but for the
animals who have been up for hours and are eagerly awaiting their
breakfast. Bullet follows me into
his pen, and I throw some grain into his bowl. I sneak out of his pen as quickly as possible, trying to
avoid getting kicked by his powerful back legs. He can be a serious ass, but I still love him.
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| food stalking |
The chickens are next; they get some pellets (no corn or soy here, thank you very much) and water. The hen coop can be tricky; they have a “feeding tube” that was fashioned out of large PVC piping. It pull it out through a hole, fill it up with their breakfast, and shove it back in, trying to prop it back up correctly as countless birds start jumping on the pipe to eat. I fail a few times until I finally muscle it into place, probably pinching a few little chicken feet in the process, and getting a decent forearm workout. Apparently this is easier than just throwing food into the coop; the chickens used to fly at the door when Warring opened it up to throw pellets down. Understandably, she didn’t want her face scratched anymore.
With my heart rate slightly elevated, I move on to the turkeys, who pose their own challenge. “Stubs”, the turkey who got part of his beak chewed off by a raccoon, can be pretty aggressive, especially at feeding time. I throw a cup of feed on the ground for them, but stubs can’t eat anything off the ground due to his deformed face. So I place the feed bucket down at his level, which he gets to nibble at for a few minutes. Taking the bucket away from him is the tough part. He likes to charge at me full speed and talons first, even though I just gifted him with a delicious breakfast. Not cool, stubs. I throw a rock at him (the only way to fend him off) and walk away, pretending like my feelings aren’t hurt.
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| Stubs |
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| Paisley's face when I catch her eating bird food off the ground |
The adult guinea fowl are much more agreeable; I throw food into their pen, open the door for them, and move on. The baby guinea fowl (or “guinea keats”) are absolutely petrified of me, and try their best to fly through the walls of their coop as I open the door. I mutter some sort of soothing greeting, trying to calm them the hell down. They’re big fans of pooping in their food, so I empty their day-old bowl and fill it up with fresh stuff. They don’t really seem to notice a difference. The pheasant next door paces awkwardly as I fill up her food and water. She likes to peck at the fencing in her coop as I do this. I asked another volunteer about this behavior, and she explained that the pheasant gets so excited about food that she just tries to devour whatever she can. Or it’s a nervous tick.
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| adult guineas |
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| guinea keets (they're almost adults now) |
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| pheasant |
I check up on Phyllis the Silky Chicken, who has recently hatched out 5 chicks. They’re all quite mobile, and scurry about the cage as I dole out their meal. I can’t help but to take a 5-minute break to watch these adorable little chicks. Phyllis is a great mom. In the earlier days, some of the chicks would jump out of the nest prematurely, and Phyllis was always quick to go check up on them and provide them warmth. These days, she gathers her babies around and shows them how to use their feet to turn up hay and soil, looking for food below. They mock her behavior and it is the cutest.
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| Silky chicks |
I tear myself away from fuzzy
babies and enter the duck pen, immediately greeted by a swarm of midges. They’re really hard to keep away; even
after a deep clean of the pen, the tiny bugs came back. Trying not to breathe too deeply, I
clean out and refill their water. They get a few
scoops of duck feed (fish-based), and then I hose down the entire coop to
distribute the duck poop out. I look around for eggs; there is usually one or two hiding in the corner. I
spend a couple of moments basking in awe at the “Quackaponics” (aquaponics in the duck pen) that
James and Warring created. Right now they're growing grasses and greens for chicken feed.
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| Quackaponics |
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| I come out of the duck pen and notice Paisley is guarding my coffee like a good girl |
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| One of the ducks lives in the garden due to an injury |
The rabbits are tucked in the front
corner of the property, nearby the dog pen. They’re very simple creatures, almost boring. They just stare dully as I top off
their hay and give them fresh water.
The cages hover overtop the “poop slide”, a slanted piece of roofing
upon which all their droppings drop.
In theory, their spherical poop will just roll down the slide and out
into the bucket outside, but in practice, the poop just lands there. So I grab the hose and spray down the
slide, accidentally showering the bunnies here and there. I give the bunnies a little TLC before I move on.
It’s finally goat time, and I start
with the bucks (the older males).
Their names are Cardamom and Zeigen. Cardamom was getting far too aggressive before I arrived on
the farm… he tried mounting Warring a couple of times. So he got neutered and now he’s much
more calm. Zeigen is the stud of
the pack; all the babies this year were his. I throw some hay into their bins, trying to not touch Zeigen
in the process. He’s in rut and
smells terrible. Once they’ve
eaten their hay, I grab a rope and get prepared to give them their goat
feed. With their food bins in
place on the fence, I hold Z’s food in one hand and Cardamom’s in the
other. I do a little fake-out
dance to avoid them both going in on the same food dish (it would get
ugly). When they’re both happily
at their stands, I proceed to wrap the rope around Cardamom’s horns, and secure
him to the fence with a double clove hitch. He sometimes finishes his food first and goes after Zeigen,
hence the rope of shame. I would jump in the pen to dump out their
water, but then Z would probably come try to get on my back, so I save that job
for a man.
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| Cardamom (left) and Zeigen (right) |
The lady goats are next up. My first job is to get one of the
goats, Ginger, out of the pen without letting anyone else out. Ginger is head of the pack and gets
super aggressive during feeding time, so she eats alone. I stand by the door and whisper her
name, hoping she’ll catch on, but all the goats immediately perk up and barge
at the door. I reach over the
fence, grab one of Ginger’s horns, and start pulling her toward the door. The other goats feel this is a good
time to start jumping up on the door (which only opens inwards) and ramming
their horns in the general direction of my body. After a few moments of commotion, Ginger manages to slip out
and runs directly to her food bowl.
Now I get in the goat pen, grab three big bowls of food, and try to get
them all placed on the ground in different locations without dropping anything. The goats think that they’ll get their
food more quickly if they jump at my back or head-butt my knees, but it really
just results in bruising. Once all
three bowls are on the ground, it’s time to patrol the feeding. Most of the time, one of the bowls is
deemed the happening place, so I end up moving goats around to evenly distribute
the feeding. The poor little girls
have to deal with a lot of head-butting from the bigger girls, so I try to make
sure everyone gets their share.
The same process then occurs with the wethers (little boys), but it
goes much more smoothly given there’s only three of them. The smallest wether, Chip, sometimes gets beat-up by the other two, so he eats his own food in his little house. All the goats get let out and I get to
hang back and clean up all of their poop.
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| I don't have any photos of the goat feeding process, so I snagged this from Warring |
Once everyone has finished their
breakfast, I let the chickens out and search for eggs. They have nesting boxes, but some of
the ladies prefer to wait until they have access to awesome hiding places
outside to lay their eggs. So I do
a quick scavenger hunt around the property, and usually find 10-15 eggs. I take them into the kitchen where they
join the dozens of other eggs, awaiting to be eaten by us or traded with one of
Warring’s many friends for meat or other goods.
I throw together a quick breakfast featuring delicious farm-fresh eggs. We usually eat outside and watch the animal "happy hour". Warring usually lets the kitties and dogs out at this time, so there's a lot of activity. We finish up eating, drink coffee and cuddle with animals, and plan out whatever is ahead for the rest of the day.
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| Sean & Jux, the love bug |
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| 'til next time... |
