Monday, October 23, 2017

Morning Routine at Scape Goat Ranch


            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.
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.
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.
Stubs
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.

adult guineas

guinea keets (they're almost adults now)
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.
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.

Quackaponics
I come out of the duck pen and notice Paisley is guarding my coffee like a good girl
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.
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.
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.  

Sean & Jux, the love bug





'til next time...


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