Happy New Year!
2017 marked my fifth year on the farm. It was a year of incredible highs and lows. It kicked me out of my reclusiveness and brought the world to my doorstep. It gave me amazing opportunities and introduced me to wonderfully authentic people. On the downside it ripped my heart out by taking all but a few of my beloved animals in horrific ways. It has made me question if I can even continue this lifestyle.
I’m still very much in the process of trying to figure out if I have the heart to continue but I’ve decided to let things pan out as they will, for now.
Winter started slowly and with much appreciated mercy, until recently. The temperature dropped suddenly and as a result I’ve been battling respiratory illnesses as well as fowl pox in several of my chickens. Magnolia, one of my Sebastopol geese, has had such a bad sinus infection her entire head swelled and she’s had to have daily shots. She seems to be coming around, thank goodness.
Basically, winters on the farm suck. They are physically and emotionally exhausting as well as expensive.
Each morning and evening I have to de-ice the water bowls. The barnyard is littered with ice molds that don’t melt during the day. Most of my plastic waterers have cracked. The water is frozen at the barn so I have to bring it from the house daily.
Every day I cook rice or oatmeal with beneficial herbs or anything else I have on hand so the animals can have a warm meal to help them through the evenings. The babies who didn’t plump up and don’t have a layer of fat to keep them warm come inside with me at night.
Each night, any chicken with a large comb and wattles gets my homemade comb balm applied to help combat frostbite. My coop is very well ventilated so it’s rare to see frostbite. The balm is just an extra layer of protection for their sensitive points. Any wheezing bird gets their beaks swabbed with natural essential oils to help open airways. They actually seem to like both of these treatments so I’m happy to do it.
Each morning I add organic apple cider vinegar and coconut oil to warm water and make sure all the babies drink after breakfast before the water starts to freeze over.
I don’t know how people in northern states deal with winter. I have farm friends in Canada who say the chickens make it through winter just fine. I guess my southern babies (except Luca – who loves this crap) are too warm blooded to enjoy the cold. I suppose each season, well, winter and summer at least, come with their negative aspects.
This week blows. The thermometer says it’s NINE degrees currently. It looks like Saturday it will be a balmy 49 degrees. Seriously, when it hits that temp, I’ll be doing farm chores in short sleeves again. I’m not even kidding. I can deal with 40s and 50s and the animals love it.
On the plus side of winter, the day after solstice (like clockwork each year) I got my first egg in over two months. This gorgeous olive green egg:
I’ve gotten one egg daily since. By the end of January, as the days gradually grow longer I should get several a day, by February/March I’ll get well over a dozen a day. Each spring I’m like the Forest Gump of eggs…egg salad, poached eggs, deviled eggs, boiled eggs, fried eggs, eggs benedict…
Late winter is pretty cool because it’s the start of baby season. With any luck, my geese and three turkey hens will hatch many little ones. I need something to help fill the hole in my heart left by all the loss. I’m exhausted from the heartache of last year. Seriously, something’s gotta give.
The loss of Rupert was a shock. I never thought I could adore a turkey. His love of people was incredibly unexpected, such a beautiful surprise. Losing Gemma a month later followed by many others and most recently my beloved Henri…well, I’m not sure how long it will take to not hurt over their losses. Every single day I feel these losses. What amazing little souls I was blessed with. I was important to them, especially Rupert, and that was a great feeling. It’s been a long time since I felt important to anyone. Makes it all the more difficult to move on and I’m really fucking tired of holding my dead babies. But as people keep reminding me, that’s part of farm life. The cycle of life is front and center here. Living close to nature means experiencing miracles no one would believe as well as intensely horrific deaths.
For now I’ll continue working on my memoir, looking forward to filming the documentary and loving my remaining babies. Hopefully clients will keep me busy with website and graphic design.
I hope to become a better version of myself in 2018 and I wish the same for you.
xo
In loving memory of Rupert, Gemma Jane, Willow, Lily, Gio, Baby rescue goat, Henri and all the other little ones I couldn’t save.