Well, they must have heard the news about Colonel Sanders, because the chickens have abandoned the bucket. I don't have a clue where they are laying eggs, and it annoyed me a great deal yesterday to have to buy eggs at WalMart.  None that I buy compare at all to the size and flavor of Grand Mad Farm eggs. Since the flock has decided to live under the house, I am thinking I will block off their access and put together a warm little spot for them for the upcoming cold season and encourage them to leave eggs where I can find them, preferably high enough to discourage snakes. 

The chicken coop that John and crew built for me was put on wheels.  My neighbor built the trailer, but didn't think to put the coop on the trailer in the right direction, so the wheel blocks the chicken door.  Of course, it is way too heavy to turn around, so need to figure out what to do there.

Amber the hunter brought in a headless rabbit the other night.  I don't even want to think about where the head went. I didn't go look for it.

Chemotherapy was postponed due to an infection around my incision and I have mixed feelings about that.  I am certainly not looking forward to the treatments, but would like them behind me. I should find out this week when they will start.  I am thinking there will just be a month where it might get a little rough, around November. I do have to be thankful that I even get a shot at a chemo after all the sad stories I hear from people who have friends that didn't make it since pancreatic cancer is usually discovered way too late.

Bucket of Chicken

We are starting a new routine here at the Grand Mad Farm.  My hours at work have been cut to 20 per week and I am hoping to make good use of the other 20 to generate the lost income.  Once my chemo treatments begin, I will have a better idea of what kind of schedule I will be on.  As I understand it, the first 3 weeks will be just one treatment a week, followed by a daily treatment for about 5 weeks.  This might be a little tougher to work around, but will have to wait and see how I feel.  In the meantime, I am using the extra hours at home to catch up on some neglected parts of my life, like doing my income tax return.

The 4 chicken girls have taken to living under the trailer.  On the plus side, they de-bug the area.  On the negative, if they are laying eggs under there, snakes are soon to follow. But then again, snakes eat mice, so that is good.  The Circle of Life goes on underneath my feet.

I was brushing my teeth the other morning when I heard a very vocal chicken outside the bathroom window. When I went out to investigate, I snapped the picture above. One of the chicken girls chose to lay her egg in the bucket on top of the dog crate. She is a little hard to see in the picture, but she nestled in next to the empty Alpo boxes. She was pretty comical, and I am sure didn't realize the relationship with Kentucky Fried.

When a chicken lays an egg, she clucks very loudly. I don't know the reason for this, maybe it is pain or maybe pride. Or maybe to attract a rooster.  It did remind me of the scene from "The Right Stuff" when John Glenn is humming the Marine Battle Hymn while in the bathroom getting a sample.

I found another egg later in the bucket, so at least 2 chickens are helping me out by laying eggs in a convenient collection spot.  Animals are endlessly entertaining; don't know how I could have a good life without all my critters around.

Major Change

A lot has changed on the Grand Mad Farm since the last post.  The Grand Mad Farmer was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, discovered quite by accident during a routine ultrasound of my abdomen in the Spring of 2010.  After several consultations and tests, I had 2/3 of my pancreas and all of my spleen removed in April of this year, while staying with my Mom in Phoenix.  While the surgery was successful, I had a lot of set-backs during recovery, including another minor heart attack, and missed most of the summer here in Texas. I am scheduled to start chemotherapy next week, and while I am not looking forward to the treatment, it is my understanding it should not have any major side effects. So I will deal with it as it comes. It is good to be back home.

One of the hardest things I did before leaving for surgery was to sell all the sheep. I was worried about their well-being if I wasn't around every day, and as it turned out it was the right decision. I was gone for 3 months, and during this time not a drop of rain on the Grand Mad Farm.  What little grass is left is brown and crunchy, and I would have had to be feeding the sheep bagged food, which would have been too heavy for me to lift under my current circumstances. I thought of them often during my time away as I had not realized how much I thought of them all.

Jack, Janet and Worthless Buddy have adapted to just being farm dogs rather than livestock guardians, and hang around the Grand Mad trailer house most of the time.  The chicken loss from predators was high, but there are 4 hearty chicken souls still alive and have taken to living under the trailer.  The 4 greyhound girls are back home with me after a summer in foster care.  We lost Joe in May due to heart failure at 15, but they sent me his ashes to spread out on the farm when it cools off a little this Fall. So here we are, 53 acres of land and all us survivors are all collected in one tiny spot.

Three wild turkeys have taken up residence down by the kennel barn and I will try to get a picture of them.

I don't know what the next chapter is for the Grand Mad Farm.  I am taking stock of the situation and will try to lead us in the right direction.

SuperSize It

My chickens lay eggs in a couple different places.  Eight or nine of them select the cedar shavings in the small white dog house in the chicken run.  The majority choose a corner in the big red dog house.  However, the eight or nine that roam loose all day have a couple different spots.

There are usually a couple in the dog house a few runs over.  I can find about 5 in the kennel barn, and one of the Golden Girls walks all the way up the hill to the chicken condo and leaves her egg neatly in the corner.

One of the chickens is "broody".  She sits on the eggs in the white dog house all day, hoping for chicks.  Since there is no rooster in the group, it is futile, but I guess in her mind miracles happen.  I don't know what she thinks when I take the eggs out from under her.  Maybe I will get a rooster sometime and fulfill her dreams of being a mom.  She would be a good one, I think.

I have an overachiever in the group.  Yesterday I found a SuperSized egg; it is the biggest egg I have ever seen.  A picture really doesn't do it justice.  Maybe somebody is sneaking steroids.

Welcome Home

If a person lives alone, it can be pretty quiet coming home at the end of a work day.  However, if a person has animals, you are guaranteed a joyful homecoming.  My dogs act like I have been gone for a month, with lots of tail wagging and excitement when I come in the door. But the funniest scene is driving down to the kennel barn.

Several of the chickens have decided to join the sheep herd during the day.  The sheep don't seem to mind. Everybody gets along on Grandma D's farm.

Welcome home.

Rain

Grandma D's farm sure was dry.  The sheep were almost out of grass and I started looking for some giant hay rolls.  Then Hermine came through and brought us rain. Lots and lots of rain.  The stock pond, which was almost empty, overflowed through the pasture and water flowed all the way down to the creek.  The back half of the chicken run also flooded and the chickens were really talking to me about it last night when I went to feed. 

Now we will have warm weather for awhile and the grass will grow.  We are good. 

The Bad Egg

I am happy to report that the eggs at the Grand Mad Farm are not under recall. Of course, hardly anyone but me and the dogs eats them, but I haven't had any adverse effects and the dogs look fine. I did some reading about the problem, and apparently this is internal salmonella of the chickens, not the care of the eggs.  My chickens don't live in a sterile environment, but I don't want them to.

Their diet consists of Purina Layena and all the bugs they can catch. I keep a Flock Block out for them, and supplemental calcium and grit.  They get lots of exercise and plenty of room to spread their wings.  I am hoping their healthy immune systems will ward off any infection.

This recall got me thinking about the term, "bad egg".  I don't know the exact origin of the phrase, but I think it is pretty much self-explanatory. I read somewhere, when I first started cooking, that when using eggs you should first crack them in a bowl instead of directly in a recipe in case it is a "bad egg". That made sense to me and I usually do that when making a recipe calling for eggs.  I don't want to spoil a whole cake on one bad egg. But in all my years of cooking and baking, I have to say there were just a couple eggs through the years that looked a little funny. From time to time when I thought I had a little stomach virus, I probably ate a bad egg, but never knew it.

Eggs are Nature's perfect packages, but as in all natural things, there is some risk. As consumers we don't like risk. It has been pounded in our heads to cook eggs, but some want to eat their eggs raw and take their chances. When the occasional bad egg shows up, as programmed American consumers they sue. In the half a billion eggs in the last couple months, if just a couple thousand are eaten raw and cause some problems, that seems fairly low risk to me.

I am guessing that my chickens eat the occasional field mouse turd, but maybe they know the difference. I have seen them pick something up and spit it out, so they probably have some taste discrimination. They like grasshoppers and crickets.

I think the real bad eggs are the producers that don't take good care of their chickens and give them some fresh air and a little room to spread their wings.  Maybe we should recall them.