Turkeys and Krav

The turkey chicks came this morning! Dad ordered them from Cackle Hatchery, and they're all heritage breeds, which means they're old-fashioned types in danger of dying out. Cackle Hatchery has photos of them--and ordering info--here. Eight of ours are the Red Bourbon breed, four are Black Spanish, and five are Blue Slate, though one or two of those might be Royal Palm. It's a little difficult to tell now.

We've put them in the pole-barn. Dad set up a dog run in there weeks ago, with tin sheets around the bottom to keep drafts out and chicks in. They don't work very well in either capacity, so the chicks are enclosed in the standard ring of flattened cardboard until they get too big the get through the chain-link. Yesterday Owen put a tarp over the top to keep the cats out, and removed the front of the run from where it's been serving as a gate in the larger stock-fence. So they're well established now, and I'm to check on them every hour or so today.



Last night was testing night at Krav. Mom took me, since Dad had a headache, and we got there in plenty of time. I think the taekwondo testing had been earlier in the day; the punching bags had all been moved to the edges of the mat so they no longer divided the room. Nearly everyone there was testing--I think one man, Pat, was there as an ordinary student, and everyone else was testing. Russ and Stacy were there, and Hannah, Laura, Jen, and a woman named Beth were all testing. I think I may have seen Beth last testing; she has red-gold hair in a ponytail and bangs, and is fairly high-level. There were two other people testing at my level: Stan, who partnered me; and a vaguely Asian guy built like a foothill whose name I haven't gotten yet. Mike had him do the chokes when we got to that part of the test.

I have no idea whether I passed or not. We'll find out next week whether I get my yellow sash or not. There was a depressing amount of stuff that was new, or that I hadn't done in far too long. Also Mike was testing us, after we finished with the focus mitts, and he's a bit intimidating, I guess. Very brisk. He teaches the Monday and Thursday classes, and he always starts us out with calisthenics, of which pushups are the mildest. Well, no--the jumping jacks are. I can do jumping jacks in my sleep, though I hope I never do.


Current plan of action says I'm going to Chicago with Mom and Grandma Jane. Tuesday night after Krav Dad lectured me the entire way home on how dangerous Chicago is, how evil people are, why he didn't want me to go, et cetera. Thanks, Dad. I put up with it, though, because I was only getting it because he was letting me go. Anyway, the plan is to leave around my birthday, and I think we'll stay a couple of days before Mom and I take the train home. We're drawing up a shopping list. *g*

There is one threat to my going, though: Lark's in heat. I need to be here to supervise the situation. If she doesn't go back to normal by the time we leave, I won't be able to go, because I'm abandoning her. It's to be the first time I've traveled without her since I got her, too. She's trained to think that "packing" means "road trip," not "abandonment." Well, puppy, I'm used to both meanings; you can learn 'em too.

The Shepherd's Handbook: Colostrum

As every livestock owner knows, colostrum, the milk first produced by a new mother, is vital to the immediate and future survival of kids and lambs. We try our best to see that everything goes smoothly: Mamma gives birth, cleans up, and within the hour the baby is nursing happily, filling its tummy with that vital colostrum. But sometimes, things don’t go smoothly. Perhaps a lamb was chilled; you come out to the barn and find a newborn, weak and shivering. Has it eaten? Does it need to eat immediately, or is there time to give it other care before feeding? Must you milk the mother? Or can you use the stuff you’ve saved? Too many important questions arise, at a time when you really can’t come inside and Google it, or ask your friends. You need immediate answers so you can take immediate action. Well, here are the answers to those questions.

Your first priority, when you find a weak newborn, should be to feed it. Help it nurse its mother if possible; if not, tube-feed it. That baby should have eaten some colostrum within half an hour of being born, and if it hasn’t eaten within eighteen hours it’s toast. The mother will continue to produce colostrum for up to twenty-four hours after giving birth; during that time, a lamb needs to consume ten percent of its body weight. The milk from the baby’s own mother is best, but if you can’t get it, some colostrum from another new mother in the same herd is next best. Stored colostrum, whether frozen or fresh, comes third. Fresh milk can be refrigerated for up to a week before it begins to lose its virtue; frozen it loses nothing, whether by freezing or thawing, unless exposed to direct heat. Don’t microwave or boil it—bathing the container in hot water is best.

Colostrum serves many purposes for a newborn’s system, but they all, more or less, boil down to one: giving that baby a jump-start in life. Without that crucial first feeding, with its nutrients, immune system boost, and more, a lamb or kid has a drastically reduced hope for survival. As flockmasters, it’s our job to give them the best chance possible at life. I hope this helps.

Rhodesian Ridgeback, a brace of terriers, and a Lab

   This morning's walk was pretty crowded, with all three of the boys along. What remains of the snow is icy in spots, which made for interesting terrain. It was sunny, though, and after awhile I had to take off my jacket. We ran into three dogs at the head of the trail, near the road; the Rhodesian Ridgeback was nice, but the terriers--leashed--were a bit hostile. We made the full circuit, in under an hour, and met a nice black Lab on the way back, with a teenager and a middle-aged woman who was probably his mom.

  At home it was time to work on food. We were committed to contributing rolls and some veggies to Syd and Ralph's Thanksgiving dinner; Mom made rolls while I cut green beans and Philip baked squash. At noon we went over with the food, that being the opening of the house. It was really nice to see the Seamans again. Isaac and Sydney appeared eventually, and the goofing off began right there. My feet are sore. X_X The food was good, though. Turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing (not as good as Mom's), salad, and various pies. Various nice relatives. Mom and Philip had a nice chat with a well-turned-out blonde with nice cheekbones. Helen from southern Colorado may have been Isaac's grandma. I'm none too clear on various relationships. Oh and Dylan was there. The hair is no longer purple, but the front is blonde. He enjoyed New Moon. I'd actually been wondering if he was into Twilight, and there you go. Oh, well. Apparently Bella's with the werewolf in this one. I'd no idea there was anything approaching a love triangle. Interesting.

   The rest of the day was spent with a food-and-exercise hangover. Read some Campion. We watched Men in Black after the football game, which I tried to sleep through. Oh, and there was an ep of Hogan's Heroes on TV before Phil started trying to watch the game. In the end he gave up, and they listened to it on the radio while playing Monopoly. By that time I had a headache, though, and nobody tried to get me to play.

Busy day! We started out herding, of course, with the crew (in theory) me and Owen. In the end we were both given jobs, which we were supposed to do while herding. Save us all from trying to do regular chores with Dad around! So I was stuck trying to pick up trash and supervise the herd simultaneously, and Owen wasn't even supposed to pretend that he was herding, so far as I could tell. Sigh. So we went in from herding, took a break, and then I mashed tomatoes for Mom, who is trying to stay ahead of the garden without much success. She hasn't drowned yet in tomato sauce, at any rate. Following such indoor kitchen-based activities (there was cabbage beet relish, too) we all had some comp time, except Doug, who had gone with Dad to get a clothes dryer from Terry-at-work. While I was at Della, and therefore in an ideal position for phone answering, there was a call from a man in Adams who had a washer he wanted Dad to fix. He was willing to deliver it, and would deliver it in fifteen minutes. Did we have anyone here to help unload? I cast a panicky look at Peter and said we did. When he came, in an aged pickup with "Mayflower Honey" on the doors, he was accompanied by a grandson perhaps my age. They made short work of the dryer, I took Mr. Brewster's name and number, and they left. All very efficient.

Next the boys and I had to go pick up the pasture. Gah. They mostly sat around in a tree while I was out there, but after I went inside they seem to have accomplished something on their own accounts, which is good. They got on the computer while I waited around for Mom, and then she and I practiced my driving. I spent some time driving around the neighborhood, then she had me practice steering in the parking lot by the ballpark. It was a bit of a relief to actually get out and practice; I keep worrying that I'm just going to waste my permit and never actually learn. But maybe not.

By this time it was late afternoon, and I felt I could get away with going upstairs and reading. Mom has a new author for me, a rather good sci-fi writer named Connie Willis. The book was a novella, titled Uncharted Territories, and Mom wanted me to pay attention to Willis' backstory technique, which is very smooth. The story is fun, and I'm considering pursuing the author--except I still haven't gotten through Loretta Chase, even the books Mom wants me to read. Ack. And of course there's Diana Wynne Jones, but I've given up on getting through her in anything approaching an organized manner and am going to grab her books where and when I can. This decision was heavily influenced by the fact that Gere is the only branch with anything approaching a decent collection, and it's still pretty sad. Also I have to compete with the kids for 'em. Sigh. I may not finish reading her before I'm hunting her down for my kids.

Dad and Doug got home, after four, only to unload appliances and take off again after more. Then, when they got home for good, they had to start fixing things. The focus was on Mr. Brewster's washer, which was speedily healed; I'm still not sure if it was fixed by the time he phoned, or if Dad finished up while talking. Anyway, Dad was on the phone for quite a while, in that time discovering: Mr. Brewster is descended from the Governor Brewster of Plymouth Colony; he was very impressed with our professionalism (coughcoughchokeouch); his grandson had us pegged for homeschoolers right off; and he'll trade us a beehive for the washer repair. Ack!

Dad and Doug have replaced Mom's no-longer-functioning dryer, and they tried to put in a new washing machine but the new one didn't work. It was determined more economical to put the old one back. But we have a new dryer.

Owen is down with the flu. The germ has been making the rounds, starting with Mom, then going to Doug. Doug's symptoms have been reduced to a persistent cough, and Mom's entirely better, but Owen's in pretty bad shape. At least nobody's throwing up.

Idiot sheep

Lost a sheep a couple days ago. Owen and I were just going past the barn when we glanced into the goat room to see two sheep tangled in wire around the fence post in the middle of the room. One was clearly dead; the other, one of the ram lambs, lay resignedly, too stiff to struggle and aware of the futility. I went to him first, working him out of the wire and massaging his hind legs, which were so stiff he wouldn't get up on his own. Once he was up and walking I turned to the dead lamb. He was one of Starling's sons, a big wether destined for eventual slaughter and, like the other lambs born here, ridiculously skittish and high-strung. By the look of it, he'd gotten a little tangled, struggled, and ended up wrapping himself so tightly around the post that he strangled himself. Where the ram lamb had resigned himself to wait for rescue, the wether lamb had fought his way into an even worse and inevitably fatal position.

Dad and the boys hung the carcass up in the red garage and drained it. It took them a while, but they got it dressed and cut into the basic chunks, which came to Mom and me for further processing. It was about eleven when we finished the last leg and put the rib cage in the refrigerator for tomorrow. It was alone in the fridge; we'd cleaned and turned on one of the refrigerators in the garage for the meat, but everything else fit in the kitchen fridge just fine. Oh, well.

Home again

Watched The Pelican Brief last night. It was really good--I'd like to watch it again. Oh, and another ep of Castle--jewel thefts/poker pride.

Spent the morning packing. I was mostly packed already, from last week's aborted departure, but there were still a number of things, plus the car to load. And I ended up forgetting my mudboots and bomber jacket. Gah.

It was a fairly short trip, subjectively speaking. We listened to The Forever War and various music off the iPhone, alternatively. Didn't finish the book. Owen called a number of times, interrupting whatever we were listening to. I was supposed to call him when we got into Nebraska, but I never got around to it. We'd been in-state for quite awhile, and were sitting waiting for direction at a construction zone, when I rolled down the window, inhaling the warm, humid air, and suddenly felt that I was home. It was a good feeling.

I think all the boys have grown. I know all the sheep have, even the previously underfed ewes; the lambs are enormous. The garden is a jungle and the melon patch overflowing.

Dachshund

Made it to church in good time, parking as the Debe's were getting out of their car. The sermon was on the nature of Christianity, with emphasis on the three aspects: faith, love and hope. The text was from Colossians 1. I thought it was very good. There were two psalms sung, fewer than usual but both with familiar tunes. The service ended with Communion. I talked to Debe girls for a bit, and then I had to say goodbye to as many friends as I could find. I didn't find as many as I could have wished, Jenna, for instance, having left; but I ran into Tava, for one, and Mr. Marble. Ben's in Wyoming, though.

Came home, had lunch, did some blogging, did some packing.

It was nice out when we larked after dinner. We ran into three women and a dachshund at the bottom of the hill on the road; Lark was wary but well-behaved until the little guy put his forepaws up against my leg. I did not, I regret to say, grab her by the scruff of her neck and shake her, which is what I need to do. It might not improve her attitude, but it would certainly convey my opinion of her behavior. Fortunately we met no one after that, although it was a pretty near thing at the pond. We turned off onto the dike before we ran into the familiar pit bull and her master.

Bad Net this evening. Philip's having trouble too.