Things I have said ABOUT poultry

 A freight train could go by five feet from the coop and the ducks wouldn't care as long as it happened at the same time every day. But if I wear a new hat they loose their little minds.

Drakes are gross. Just don't think about it too hard and do not google it.

I once used a different color bedding in the duck hut and they were pretty sure it was going to eat them.

Chickens lack empathy. It's just how God made them.

It's not their fault they're stupid, their wild ancestors got by on fear and rage instead.

There are too many perfectly nice roosters in the world to put up with a human aggressive one. CROCKPOT.

The myth of unskilled labor

 So hay making happened. Because balers are expensive (like five digits kind of expensive), and the neighbor's industrial machines don't fit our gate, we put up our hay loose. This has some advantages - we can put it up a little wetter, and it's way less likely to spontaneously combust.

The disadvantage is the amount of time and effort we spend out there with pitch forks picking up hay, putting it in the trailer, packing it down, driving to the barn, picking it up AGAIN, throwing it in the barn, and packing it down (again). For this reason we always put out word amongst our friends, church, neighbors, customers, ANYBODY to try to get a little help. Many hands make light work and all that. Which is where I come to my point.

You would think that this is the DEFINITION of "unskilled" labor. You pick it up, you put it down where you're told. But somehow it doesn't work that way.

My youngest two kids are the best at packing the hay down in the wagon - because they've been doing this since they were 6-8 years old.

My second to oldest is the best at packing the hay down in the barn - because they've been doing it with my husband since they were 10.

My oldest kid is the best at driving the trailer from the field to the barn and back, with all the turn arounds involved - because that's how she learned how to drive in the first place.

And all of us are faster and more efficient at picking up loose hay and putting it down than the random teens from church we had over this year, because we've been doing it for YEARS. We pick up more at a time, spill less, and move more efficiently, because THIS IS NOT UNSKILLED LABOR.

And the few tasks we've managed to mechanize? TRAINED PERSONELLE ONLY.

And then we were all showed up by a nice guy that grew up near farmland in Africa, who showed us all up without even using a pitchfork, just his powerful, skilled arms. WAY TO GO GUY. You've probably been doing similar tasks since you were six and we appreciate the hell out of you. 

We also appreciate the hell out of literally anybody who shows up. Because even inefficient, unskilled helpers make things go a little faster, and when you have to pick up a ton of hay twice, little bits still count.

A tale of two quail jails

 As you may have noticed if you've been around my house, now that the weather is nice the quail a get to go outside.

It is just the cocks for now, because a) I have too many of them, b) the hens are kind of important because they're the ones who pay rent, and c) most of them were in horny jail anyway. Initially, I just took the two quail jails outside, regular horny jail mode but with a pan for a roof/shade, and witnessed mass chaos.

Quail do this thing where when something scares them they jump straight up in the air. It's called popping and is common to game birds. The quail jails were a veritable jiffy pop out there, and we had a few split scalps, which look far worse than they are. I had to bring Marshie inside because I was afraid he was concussed. Turns out that white feathers just make every little injury look WORSE, but he continues to be Second House Cock due to not fighting with Onyx and also inertia.

That said, after a couple of days getting used to the routine, there was actually dramatically less fighting! Success! I have distracted the walking testicles with the enrichment of being on grass and looking at ducks!

So I thought to myself, if all the cocks were in one quail jail, some of the girls could take turns going out in the other quail jail. It would be good for them! The cocks are getting along great! 

Spoiler: the cocks did not get along great. Things we have learned since then:

• Quincy hates Scrambles with the passion of a much larger bird, and is also the larger bird between the two of them. 
• Scrambles tries to phase through the bars whenever he's in the same jail as Quincy.
• Bob doesn't think other cocks should exist.
• According to Bob, Quailliam is a hen.
• Quailliam just wants to eat crumble and run laps, but is willing to stop to harass Nugget.
• Nugget is terrified of Scrambles for no discernable reason.

Things I have said to goats

 STOP SHOUTING AND EAT YOUR FOOD

That's not your mama stop stealing!

I know that's not your baby stop chasing!

WHAT DID YOU DO

WHERE DID YOU FIND THAT

DON'T EAT THAT

WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR EAR

You're doing this on purpose aren't you.

LET ME HELP YOU

*undifferentiated screaming*

Get your feet out of my pocket!

If you love the squeaky thing you need to FEED the squeaky thing! That's your baby!

NO SIT ON BABBY

Stop kicking your baby in the face! She needs to touch your boobs to get milk! (first fresheners: they have no idea what's going on)

DON'T DRINK THAT wash water is not delicious!

A list of things I have said to poultry

 "Stop that! It's not his fault he exists and has testicles!"

"There has been too much duck crime today! No more crime until tomorrow!"

"I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE"

"TAKE IT TO THE HOUSE" (almost every day, when I want them to go back in the damn coop)

"STOP EATING MY TREES THEY ARE BABIES"

"Capes are not in fashion! Get out of the feed sacks!"

"WHERE DID YOU GET THAT"

"YOU DISGUST ME"

"That's not where eggs go!"

"STOP POOPING ON ME I'M TRYING TO HELP YOU OW YOU HAVE SHARP TALONS"

"Stop shouting and eat your food!"

"Who's blood is this?!"

"Puddle water is not delicious! I just filled the waterer!"

Lambing =/= Kidding

 Two days! Two ewes! Two lambs! I'm glad that Limu and Flo at least coordinated, but also wild shenanigans abounded.

RELEASE US

1. Of course they both lambed out in the field, not conveniently in the barn. No problem! I know to use the lamb to lure the ewe where I want her to be once she's got it mostly clean. This lead to Flo getting confused, going back to where she had him, and deciding that clearly Sif had disappeared her lamb somehow... even though he was hollering for her in the barn. Lesson learned: BACK away from the ewe, keeping the lamb between her and you. If the lamb leaves her line of site for even a fraction of a second she forgets where it is and panics.
2. Lambs are really quite stoic. When I dip a goat kid's navel (a process that involves turning them on their backs for good coverage), they holler, which draw's mom's attention. Lambs are just like "welp this is my life now," once again causing the ewe to be confused, because wait where did my baby just go? Oh wait there it is!
3. Lambs get up MUCH FASTER than at least my goats do. This leads to a toddling lamb looking for the milk bar while mama is trying to wash its face. They kind of circle each other. This is adorable.
4. Ewes have TINY LITTLE NIPPLES. Is the baby nursing or is it just sucking the side of her udder? I'm not sure. Shine a flashlight under there. Now the baby is confused because it got bright all of a sudden and it was just born.
5. With both ewes in stalls with their lambs, Jake from State Farm can no longer find his ladies like 95% of the time. Where did they go? Are they lost? Ram screm ensues. He sounds like he smokes a pack a day, more so than usual.
6. Sheep are follow mammals - their babies follow them very closely from day one. Goats are cache mammals - they hide their babies and go back to feed them until they're strong enough to keep up. This makes finding the babies both very easy (they're with mama!) and very difficult (mama could be anywhere!).
7. If I pick up a lamb, the ewe does not know where it went. The lamb, still stoic, says "welp this is my life now" again. The ewe runs around in a panic calling for her baby. Sheep, turns out, do not look up.

NYOOOOOOM

They are extremely cute and I look forward to them frolicking in the pasture, and also, Soay ewes generally blow their fleece shortly after lambing... so also FLEEEEEECE. They're so soft and allowing more scritches than ever before!!!

I'm all alone...

The problem with wool

 So Jake from State Farm got shorn. He feels much better.

Release me! I see ladies!

This means that I get a fleece! I really enjoy Jacob fleece, but you can't just spin wool, even the nicest wool, straight off the sheep. Well you could but it's not a GREAT idea, because sheep are dirty little grease balls. So we've got some prep steps:

The skirting floor, ie my front room.

1. Skirt the fleece. This means you lie it out flat and pick off the gross parts at the edges... poopy bits, felted bits, in the case of Jacob sheep, hair.
2. Wash (scour) the fleece. Yes you just took out the gross parts. All the other parts are also a LITTLE BIT gross. And did I mention greasy? Lanolin folks - it comes from sheep! There are multiple methods to wash a fleece, but I personally put it in a giant mesh laundry bag, fill the bathtub with hot water and dish soap, and slowly, GENTLY soak the fleece. Heat + agitation = felt. Heat is also the easiest way to get the grease out. I usually do two soap soaks and three or four rinse soaks.
   
3. Dry the fleece. Getting all the water out take BLOODY FOREVER. I squish it out in the tub, then roll it up in towels and stomp on it, then spread it out as far as I can under a full blast ceiling fan. Usually on my bed. This is the part where my husband becomes concerned. He shouldn't be because I am very smart and spread it out on a sheet, so I can roll it up and move it if we need to sleep. He is wonderful but does not understand my madness.
4. Card/comb the fleece. This is where you have some more choices, which are primarily dictated by what tools you have access to. Someday I will have all the tools. SOMEDAY. But right now I have a drum carder and hand cards. The drum carder usually wins, because hand cards take ages and I'm the "card it all before I spin any of it" type - mostly because having to stop spinning to card some more fills me with rage.

Now you have wool ready to spin! I'm asked regularly whether spinning my own yarn is a money saver versus using commercial yarn, and it definitely is not. But you have to figure in all the bonus entertainment value of all of this STUFF. Learn to spin! You will never "have nothing to do" again!

Maybe don't quit your sysadmin job

FIRST BLOG POST IN YEARS BABY!!! I am still alive Facebook and Twitter are just easier to keep up with. That said, one of my friends sent me this lovely list of reasons you should quit your sysadmin job and become a goat farmer: https://www.reddit.com/r/sysadmin/comments/4l7kjd/found_a_text_file_at_work_titled_why_should_i/

And as a goat farmer who works in tech (although I am a PM, not an engineer) I have a few rebuttals. Quotes in bold because I'm too tired to deal with prettier formatting.

• Left alone, Billy goats and Nanny goats do what they're supposed to do. You don't need to format them, monitor them, be on-call for them, step, trace or inspect registers.

• Indeed they will, but you will also probably be frantically drying kids in the middle of a blizzard if you don't at least enforce a schedule on them. 

• Goats don't page you.

• They are better at screaming than most stakeholders though.

• When it comes to "software" (food), EVERYTHING is compatible with a goat.

• No it isn't. Their requirements list for hay is as extensive as it is unknowable. And GOD HELP YOU if you package their software in a new or unexpected way because this is not what they asked for, expected, or need. Also, sometimes they eat plants that are literally poison. Apparently to keep you on your toes.

• You don't need to call a staff meeting to make sure everyone's milking goats the same way.

• Only if you find goat shenanigans funny or hate your substitute milk maids. Goats will enforce your daily schedule more intensely than the most anal retentive product owner on the planet, and they will do so by screaming, becoming boneless, and generally acting like you are killing them when you ask them to do things they do literally every day.

• You don't need to sign in with the front desk if you need to milk a goat on a weekend. You don't need to use a badge to open a front gate. If you find an empty coffee pot burning on the machine on a Saturday, you just yell at your wife.

• But you might need to sign in with the livestock guardian dogs, who are highly suspicious of any change of schedule. It is after all their job to enforce security policy.

• You deliver applications to goats. Goats do not deliver applications to you.

• Isn't that what kids are?

• Goat security is applied completely, thoroughly, and with all the features you'll ever need, using a stake and a rope.

• Also an electric fence, gates (no taller gates), 24/7 canine monitoring, and additional after hours electronic monitoring (if you're lucky, if not, physical monitoring) during high stress periods (kidding). They still get out sometimes and your neighbor asks if that's your goat in the road.

• You do not need to buy anything to "uninstall" a goat. Maybe a gun or a knife.

• Sometimes people pay money for the privilege of uninstalling the goat from your property for you!

• No meetings.

• Yes meetings. Daily (milking, feeding, watering), weekly (barn cleanup, worm checks), monthly (more barn cleanup), quarterly (minerals), and annual (breeding, kidding, vaccines) schedules strictly enforced by screaming and/or death.

• All your stuff will still work when you buy your 100th goat, and your 256th goat, and your 65,536th goat..

• Unless the previous goats broke it in new and exciting ways. That said, bailer twine fixes most of that, and the rest is a replace/upgrade scenario. No dev budget required unless you feel like getting fancy.

• Nobody can go through your goat and get you in trouble for what they find in there.

• Yes they can, selling a goat into the slaughter pipeline that you gave an unapproved patch (medication) without express permission from an admin (vet), with paperwork, will indeed get you in a lot of trouble. Because they will go through the goat. They will find out.

Would I quit my tech job to goat farm full time again in approximately two seconds if I didn't have to worry about money? Yes. But do goats have a surprising amount in common with most stakeholders? Also yes.

Many mama duck styles

So as many of you know we got livestock guardian dogs this year.  While Heimdall and Sobek are still being dumb puppies (BIRDS ARE FRIENDS NOT TOYS), they are also already so good at their jobs that I can actually let the mama Muscovies raise their ducklings and I don't loose half of them to vanishing the first week.  This is super amazing because brooder ducklings suck (they're wet and stinky!).  But also interesting because of all the different mama duck styles we turn out to have.

White belly mama wants to take her ducklings as far away from the other ducks as she can possibly get them, as soon as their little legs are strong enough for them to follow her.  This is a little bit of a problem because she wants to take them into the cow pasture next door, and cows will step on ducklings and not even notice.  Still raised them all as far as I can tell though.

The white mamas always go in on a nest together, and seem mildly confused as to why these ducklings are following them.  They will cuddle the babies if they huddle up, but seem to want to know why crying ducklings are making that noise.

This is as close as I could get to black mama duck, because she will attack you if you look at ducklings funny.  Not just her ducklings, but ANY ducklings.  She stops mothering them a lot earlier than the other hens do, but makes it up in sheer determination to make you BLEED.

One of the blue hens has a nest that should hatch soon, that will be the last ducklings of the year, so help me.  I might have too many ducks.  But mothering ability is a good thing to decide which to keep based on, so I have an excuse to keep them a little longer.

Support your local feed mill!

So I love our feed mill.  They're like fifth generation, family owned and operated, and their feed is the best I can find anywhere.  I always haul feed in my van with the back seats out, because I would rather stab myself with a fork than back up a trailer.  This leads to some "that's a funny looking truck, wink!" commentary but it certainly isn't the strangest thing they've loaded feed into.

So today they were loading me up with feed, and I notice that one of my front tires is obviously short on air.  Yipes.  I have an emergency pump, but that thing takes about three years to work.  No worries, says toothless feed store guy (I don't know any of their names work with me here).  You can use our air pump.

The other one looks a bit low too, says current manager.  Best top it up first.  So we do that.  Then we try to do the other side.

AND IT EXPLODED.

Like kaboom and gravel flew everywhere it didn't just blow out it blew up.  And we all just stare at it for a second.

"Do you have a spare, darlin'?"

I realize that calling people darling or sweetie or whatever is kind of a southern thing, but I really hate it.  Makes me want to punch the dang guy in the mouth.  But the speed with which a swarm of feed mill dudes descended upon my car, pulled all the feed out, got the spare out from under the car, found a better jack, jacked up my car, and switched that tire out makes me very glad that I never have.  I surely could have done that myself, but it would have taken me at least an hour longer, and I would have been metaphorically dead afterwards.  As it was I still had enough energy to get the feed back out of the van and put up so we can take it to its appointment at the tire place tomorrow.

So support your local feed mill, darlings.  And if you're local to me, go to Big Spring Mill in Elliston.  They will save your bacon when your car explodes.

It's the little things, I guess.

So in addition to insane roosters, we have been dealing with "something is wrong with the milk machine" for the last couple of days.  It was just not sucking as much as it was supposed to, which really sucked.  I took off all the hoses and submerged them in water to check for leaks.  I drained and cleaned the overflow tank (there wasn't actually anything in there but air).  I knocked on the pulsator.  Don't laugh that is literally a step on the trouble shooting flow chart for my milk machine.  Nothing.  Slow death.  Hour long milking sessions.  Frustrated goats.  Dammit Pansy what have you done.

Then I took apart the hose that connects the pump to the pulsator.  Did you know that the screw together doodad in the middle of that hose isn't just for converting from small size tube to larger size tube, it has a filter in it?  A filter that is basically two tiny pieces of cheap Scotch Brite scrubby pads on top of each other?

Yeah a week of freaking out because I thought my milk machine was dying, and it needed like a $.001 part.  It works now!  Unfortunately now the suction is too high and I have to remember what the previous setting was.  I have it written down in this user manual somewhere.  And hey, in the morning I won't have frustrated goats... but I might have surprised goats.  Not sure if that is an immediate improvement, but I'll take it.

About six miles of tubes... all leak free.  Today.

Chickens are possibly insane.

So today was the day we had scheduled for breaking up the breeding pens and letting all the poultry (except for the grow outs, which live in the tractor) range together.  This will dramatically simplify management and chick sales blow chunks this year anyway (thanks, Rural King!), so it was time.  The birds have never been out of sight of each other - they could see and interact with all the birds through the fences.  So I thought that this would be fairly trauma free.

I forgot about roosters.

First Hendrix had to fight Norris.  Then he had to fight Jones.  Then Jones and Norris had to fight.  Doesn't matter that Jones and Norris had been in the same pen this entire time, during which Norris had been the Boss Rooster from day 1.  No, they had to resort everything.

Did you know that comb and wattle injuries bleed?  A lot?  Like, more blood than you think a chicken could reasonably loose without passing out or something?  So if any of you are around here in the next week or so, please remember that there are no secret cock fighting rings at 4Farthings.  Just a bunch of asshole roosters who occasionally loose their ever loving minds and become psychotic comb biting jerks.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go put Blu Coat on everything.

Apple Sauce

Aside from the usual fall shenanigans (NO Chocula, she's not to get bred until NEXT month and NOT BY YOU), I got a screaming deal on seconds apples by the bushel.  My husband talked me down so I only bought two bushels of apples (about 100 lbs), which was probably smart.  I do nothing half way, which is the nice way of saying I'm really good at over committing.

I also discovered that this year narrow mouth quart jars are two dollars less than wide mouth jars.  Two whole dollars!  My family is going to have to cope with narrow mouth jars.

But all that is to say that I've been making lots of apple sauce.  The nice thing about apples is they have enough acid and enough sugar on their own to be pretty canning safe, so you don't have to worry too much about following a recipe.  As such, my apple sauce recipe is actually more of a method.  If you wanted to try this with other similar fruits (like pears), it would probably work, and you should tell me how it turned out.

How to Can Apple Sauce

First, acquire a large number of apples.  They cook down so don't mess around with this part.  The best kinds are fairly firm (Red Delicious sucks) and moderately tart, in my opinion.  This year we're using Rome apples.

Core the apples and cut out any weird bits.  I leave the skins on, partially because I am lazy, and partially because the internet told me that that's where all the nutrition is.  But the seeds need to come out, as do the blossom ends, stems, and any icky bits.  You can use an apple cutter/corer if you want.

Put all the apples in a big ol' pot with a couple of inches of water in the bottom.  You can add some cinnamon sticks at this point if you're into that sort of thing.  Put the whole mess on low heat and simmer, stirring occasionally, until everything is mushy.

Run the apples (skins and all!) and apple liquid through your food processor or powerful blender in batches until it's all the consistency you expect from apple sauce.  Or if you're a bum who doesn't like skins in their applesauce you can use a food mill.  Put it back in the big pot and have a taste.  Is it sweet enough?  Not enough cinnamon?  Season to taste with sugar, molasses (yum!), cinnamon, or what have you.  I usually add cinnamon and a small amount of black strap molasses.  Keep it simmering!  If your sauce is too watery you can also let it cook down some more.

Ladle your finished applesauce into sterilized jars and process in a boiling water bath canner for twenty minutes.  Remove canner from heat and allow jars to stand in hot water for ten minutes more.

Tah-dah!  Apple sauce!  And you didn't even have to measure anything.

Things that cause Cedar to forget how to use a milk stand:

• Moving.  It took nearly two weeks after we brought Cedar home to convince her that yes, this really is a milk stand, and yes, you really do use it just like the ones back home.  There is grain involved if you cooperate, girl!

"Like this, right?"

• Turning the milk stand to face the other way.  She cannot find the grain.  It is gone.  Clearly this is some kind of witch craft.
• Cleaning the milk room.  All the trash and dirt was clearly vital to her process.  Now that it is gone she can only get two feet onto the milk stand at a time.  Life is very tragic.

Hey, what did you do with my trash?

• Presence of chickens in the milk room.  Chickens are sneaky and it's very naughty for them to sneak into the milk room, so apparently Cedar gets to be sneaky and naughty too.  Sprinkles' grain looks tasty.  Surely no one will notice.

• Presence of human kids in the milk room.  They need a good sniffing and lots of kisses.  Again, it is impossible to get more than two feet on the milk stand at a time.  Cedar whines because her tongue is not long enough to reach the grain this way.

Ponchos might also secretly be snacks.  Forget the snacks ON THE MILK STAND...

• Removing a doe from the milk line.  Clearly it is not actually the milk room if Sundae doesn't threaten her on the way in/out.  (Sundae is in the barn recovering from an epic case of found something bad for her and ate a whole lot of it.  She is fine but needs to convalesce.)  Attempts to crawl under the milk stand to find out if the trash can is full of used wipes yet.

Nope not yet.

• Mom put the teat wipes at the wrong end of the milk stand.  Clearly it is a trap.
• Mom put something new on/under/next to the milk stand.  Also clearly a trap.  Unless it's treats.  Cedar attempts to eat the new thing.

I am beginning to see why Sundae hates Cedar so much - she is a bit daft.  I can only imagine it's worse if you actually speak goat.  I'm rather fond of my little Cinnamon Bun goat, but enough is enough, girl!

Sometimes I give up.  You win this round, goat...

Kidding check list

That time of year is rolling around again, that magical time where baby goats are born and I completely loose my marbles.  So with that in mind, here is my personal check list of everything I do to get ready.  It is also a convenient list of why you might not hear from me as much as usual until about mid-March.

Thirty days before the does are due, put everybody on the milk stand, trim their feet, and give them CDT vaccines.

A couple of days later, remember that I was also supposed to give them their annual selenium (I use oral gel) and semi-annual copper bolus (think really big vitamin).  Wrestle with the goats because they think I'm trying to poison them.

Put together my goat midwifery kit.  Contents:

• OB lube (I just buy whatever water based personal lubricant is cheapest at the grocery store.  In large quantity.)
• Vet-strength iodine
• Large numbers of towels
• A tube of oral selenium (in case the kids need it)
• Molassas, corn syrup, and CPMK (a calcium supplement)
• Tums (For the goats, not me.  Ok sometimes also for me.)
• Injectable Penicillin (kept in the fridge), needles, and syringes
• A big pile of empty feed sacks, which I have yet to actually use
• Bottles (the empty soda kind) and nipples (the black lamb kind), just in case

Two weeks before the does are due, I start them on their late pregnancy ration of grain, and start feeding alfalfa again.  The goats think I am God.

One week before the does are due, I start feeling tail head ligaments.  One of the surest signs a doe is about to kid is she "looses her ligaments" - ie, they become impossible to feel.  This is also about the time I start fiddling with their udders, which they hate, and trying to feel the babies move, which they hate even more.  The goats think I've lost my ever loving mind, except for Emerald, who will do anything to have her cheeks scratched.

I continue in this holding pattern until all the does kid - they are all due the same week this year, and goat due dates are plus or minus five days, so worst case scenario I've got about two weeks of absolute wackadoo.  I'll let you know how alive I still am when we have a head count and everybody is eating.

Roosters

So I've figured out why Punky Rooster (silkie) was Head Bird around here for so long, in spite of being a bantam amongst full size chickens.

One third the size.  All thirds the attitude.

It all came about because I brought home a new rooster - now don't think I'm super crazy, because he came with a hen, and they are French Black Copper Marans.  Extremely fancy birds and I would have been crazy to pass them up.  I put a small pen in the corner of the coop for new arrivals, so that the old chickens can get used to them without being able to beat them up.  My main concern was Chick Jagger, the Wyandotte rooster, who has supplanted Punky as Lord of the Barnyard by dint of being huge and a jerk.  And I wasn't concerned, because while the bantam hens can get into the introduction pen no matter what I do, Jagger cannot.  Everything would be fine and nobody would get destroyed.

Then I went into the coop to check for afternoon eggs and found Punky jumping on the new rooster's head.  Apparently I can't keep him out of the introduction pen either, and not only does he fight dirty, but this larger rooster was clearly confused why this tiny bird was shoving him into a corner and jumping on his face.

So in conclusion, silkie roosters (or at least my silkie rooster) are devious little bastards, and Marans roosters have excellent calm temperaments.  With luck, Punky is done trying to destroy the poor new guy and there will be peace in the coop again, but I would not count on it.

Goats: occasionally too smart for my own good

Now I love my goats.  They make me laugh every day.  They do however tend to develop some behaviors that also make me want to scream.  The most frightening at this time revolves around these kinds of latches:

And the fact that goats can open them any time they wants to.  Let's just make this clear: any time she wants to, a goat can get into 2/4 of the kidding stalls, the coop, the stall off the milk room, and THE MILK ROOM.  Did you know I keep feed in the milk room?  Fortunately none of them have figured out how to get open the twist top bins I use, even by knocking them over and jumping on them.  I am also grateful that, generally speaking, they only want in when I'm in there (they know I can get the feed cans open).

So now all my doors and gates have hook and eye latches higher than the goats can easily reach, too.  Or close with a carabiner.  Heaven help me if they figure out how to operate a carabiner.  This is also conclusive proof that goats are smarter than sheep - the previous owner of our property ran Katahdins, and found all these latches to be perfectly adequate.  He also kept several of the tube gates shut by hanging the chain on a nail.  Yeah, goats figured that one out in about five minutes.

And the lesson is...

So this morning two of the roosters were fence fighting. I have the silkies shut in the new coop with the khaki campbell ducks for population balance (if any of you speak duck, tell the khakis THE CONFINEMENT WILL END WHEN THE BABY MAKING IMPROVES). Today I opened the old coop yard so the chickens could get in there and clean up the weeds, so of course Chick Jagger (Wyandotte) decided that this was the best possible time to try to fight Punky for the title of Lord of the Poultry Yard. Now roosters fighting isn't usually funny, what with all the violence. But with a fence in the middle it looked more like a chest bumping contest, and was kind of hilarious... especially since Punky wouldn't back down from a bird literally twice his size! That is also worrisome of course because if they could really fight, Jagger would destroy Punky. I happened to be standing there filling the waterer in the yard. Slowly, slowly I moved around to the side. And sprayed Jagger with the hose. He of course ran away because DEAR LORD THIS ROOSTER ATTACKS WITH WATER! And Punky just stood there strutting and crowing, because Jagger ran away = I WIN. Which is good for me because having a small rooster that respects me well as top dog is better for me than Jagger, who is doing that crazy adolescent rooster thing. But the lesson here is that I am a jerk, at least to roosters. But for once me breaking up fighting poultry actually worked out for the best. I hope.