Farmer Brown

I have had this post running through my head for several weeks now, and figured I should get it written down before long. It is funny how the little decisions you make along your life path can lead you to a totally unexpected place. When I was growing up, my great grandmother, Omi, used to grow her own veggies, make her own sausage, medicines, and liquor. She was born of the Volga Germans, and brought her daughter and grandchildren to this country in he 1950's. She was one tough lady (and quite crazy), but she lived a remarkable life. I wish she were alive today, because she would have been such a tremendous source of knowledge! Sadly, she died when I was in my 20's, before I was fully on this path of being self-sufficient. But I will always carry the memory of sitting in her kitchen, smelling her fabulous foods, eating her amazing desserts, and drinking her very potent cough syrups as long as I live. She planted a seed, which eventually terminated into where and what I am today.

When I was in middle and high school, there was a boy nicknamed "Farmer Brown." He was a small fellow then, quiet and pretty unassuming. Yet he had a passion for growing things. We were never really friends, but were among the same group of kids who had gone to school together since elementary school, so we knew each other well enough. I remember he once came to my house (I think he had a crush on me at the time, but I could always be wrong), and he gave me a gift of some of the peanuts he had grown. It seemed so surreal at the time, this boy farmer living in the middle of suburban Florida, with a penchant for growing crops in high school. Oh well, he is probably a corporate attorney or accountant by now. But I wanted to say thank you, Farmer Brown, for your peanuts and your strangeness way back then. I'm not sure it influenced this path I am on, but you were on my mind as part of a greater strangeness as to how one decision or piece of information can lead you on a different path than our ever expected. I really want my own farm and homestead in the woods. And I'm sorry for any teasing I did towards you. Apparently the gods have a sense of humor.

Land Shares and Homesteading

I found a great article on Homegrown.org recently that really highlighted for me the problems we (as a family as well as a society) are facing right now. I'll try to pull up a link, because I think it is important to share it. Essentially, we have been trying to figure out a way to buy property so we can homestead on it, without really having any extra money to put towards it. We DO already own a house, a decent enough one in the suburbs, but in a town we don't want to live in. With no room to breathe and space to call our own. We could sell the house, but would then be homeless, without the excellent credit needed these days to get another mortgage. But if we sold it, we might have enough to put towards the property we want. A conundrum for certain. Here is a link to the article. I think you will find it interesting.

One idea we had to resolve our dilemma was to put out essentially a wanted ad for a farm or land that someone had that wasn't currently using it. Does that make sense? We are farmers without land, looking for a farm without a farmer. I did a lot of digging around the interwebs, and discovered some promising programs for people like us, but there is no quick fix. We were hoping to find someone that had land we could use to grow some crops for the animals and veggies for ourselves and the land owner to share. This way we all benefit - their land gets used creatively and sustainably, and we get the experience and products of our labor. It has been variously called a land share or garden share, and is a great way to bring people together for their mutual benefit.

And in a roundabout way, we may have actually found someone to land share with us. We are currently working out the details, but I am pretty hopeful we will get something going in the next week. If I can find some other folks to form a co-op to help us out and work the land as a larger collective, it will be even better. This will hopefully (fingers crossed) be a good intermediate step for us while we figure out the monetary issues for funding our own homestead in the hills.

Goodnight Mama

Last night I had this whole post composed in my head, but I felt too sad and tired to post it. Since I have slept a bit since then, all those eloquent words have disappeared like smoke on this windy day. So now I lie here in bed, nursing my 2.5 year old son to sleep for his nap, while the tears roll down into my ears (I always hated that feeling) and my grief remains not fully expressed.

Yesterday I found out that a friend of mine, a mom in our local playgroup, took her own life. I am still feeling so stunned and at a loss for words. I know she had been struggling with being depressed. Less than two years prior she was finally diagnosed with Bipolar disorder, and she was hospitalized briefly last year because of it. Ironically, she was on medication and she and her husband and family were trying to decide if she needed to go to the hospital again. She had support and help to navigate what was going on. She had loving family and friends actively working with and for her. Yet her disease must have left her feeling so overwhelmed that she took her own life rather than continue. I am so sad for her children, husband, family, and other friends they will not have her bright light in their lives anymore. Goodnight Mama, I hope you have found your peace. I will miss you.

Words To Remember

There is always a certain element of danger, to me, in writing things down. Before the Internet, your deepest darkest thoughts or desires, once written down, could be discovered and used against you. Not that it was incredibly likely, mind you, but the element of danger was still there.

Today, whatever you write down is instantly made available to a whole host of people you don't even know, often from an entirely different continent, to be judged. Scary thought. I have often been hesitant to write certain things down, just because of that fact. I don't want my own words used against me, and I dislike having to defend my opinions that I held at a particular moment in time. I really don't care for conflict, unless it is of my own choosing. So with that in mind, I tend to think about what I have written before I hit the Send/Enter button.

I'm not sure exactly why I was thinking about that today, except that certain friendships (or memories of past ones) have been swirling about in my brain lately. I guess some part of me wants to have the last word, though the recipient would likely never even know it. With that in mind, I could fill the following with a tirade against those who have somehow done me wrong (or whom I have wronged), but my paranoia about the written word is getting the better of me once again.

Suffice to say that I am thinking about friends both current and past. Right now one is struggling with an illness that may take her from us. While I feel strongly that she still has much left undone, my gut feeling is that she will find her way to he next journey all too soon. I have learned to trust those gut feelings, if only because they have rarely steered me wrong, but here are times when they have turned out to be unfounded. I hope that this is one of those times. Keep on fitting, my friend, we all want you to stay rooted to this plane for a while longer.

An Update on Rune

So I thought now would be a good time to give an update on Rune, our little goat who broke her leg. It has been three weeks so far, and she seems to be doing just fine. Fine enough that we decided to add a little protective covering to the splint she has on (because of the snow and mud), and let her go back to the herd.

It all seemed to go well, being re-introduced to Alice and Rain (her twin sister), as well as meeting two out of three of the new does. The smallest one was in the garage/infirmiry we set up for her for about 2 days while she recovered from the stress of moving, etc.

Doesn't she look great?

That's Not A Designer Handbag, It's My Goat!

If there is one thing that this last year has taught me, is that opportunities come in unexpected places. Had someone told me where I would be at in my life today, I would have laughed myself silly. However, as much as I have realized that I can be a control freak over certain aspects of my life, I have come to recognize that there are times I simply need to let go and see where this path takes us.

Why am I bringing this up now? Well, my dearest husband has been thinking about trying to get a young cow or some pigs for a little while now. We have looked into several breeds (mainly heritage breeds, as this fits into our life and philosophy the best) and have tried to find locally based breeders if possible.  While we are still somewhat flexible on the cattle breed, he has his heart set on getting some Large Black Hogs. Yep, that is actually the name of the breed (so descriptive the English are!! Just kidding; I think the pigs are pretty handsome and their name obviously fits them), and they are pretty rare. so rare, in fact, that I believe one little piglet will probably run at least $300. Just for one, never mind several to try to start our own little colony with.

So with dreams of expensive ham in mind, he had me put an ad out asking people for their unwanted livestock for our family to raise. It wasn't specific, but he was hoping for a cow, or a pig or something of that ilk. Never did it even occur to us we would get the exact animal we really didn't want. Little goats. I don't mean baby goats, but miniature milk goats, Dwarf Nigerian Goats to be specific. Why on earth would anyone want a tiny milking goat??

Apparently, quite a few people are into keeping them. They apparently make good pets (goats in the house, are our serious?? I mean, they are literally eating and pooping machines!). Quite a few people actually prefer them because of their small size. After all, a herd is cheaper to feed and they might be easier for a novice to deal with, especially if big animals seem too scary. And people seem quite proud of the little buggers.

When we got our first goats, we looked at all the books, and decided that of all the breeds, the last ones we wanted were the miniature ones. Why? I guess for us it came down to personal preference; the larger breeds give more milk, and if we were going to have a herd of milk goats, we might as well have full-sized ones!

So here we are suddenly, with several more goats. Our little herd has suddenly doubled in numbers, though not in size. Some of these fellows (we now have 4 new bucks!) are truly tiny, and can not only walk under Splint, our largest wether, but under Panas our almost yearling Nubian as well. I never thought I would see the day. Aside from getting some rather small goats, they seem to have come to us with some issues as well. All have horns (yes, dammit, HORNS AGAIN!) that are delaminating which is a good indication of being effectively malnourished. And they are all bloated (a potentially life threatening condition for goats). So now we not only have to help them get better, but figure out what their optimal feed really is and hope that they can rebound from it. Plus, they all have horns (of course! Go figure. Better get the coping saw out again), and the hoofs on a few of them are so bad i'll bet they haven't felt the earth in a LONG while.

Thing us, after spending a little time with them, I can sorta see the appeal of these little Nigerian goats. They can be kinda cute. They look like miniature mountain goats. Maybe we can let the children breed them and use the proceeds to get a few Large Black Hogs. Just thinking of the possibilities here.

Never throw anything away

I admit it, I am a pack rat. I come from a long line of pack rats, as does my husband. It is something that often frustrates us, as we have a lot of "stuff" that we are trying to organize without anywhere to put it. We struggle with trying to decide when we should get rid of something, especially since when we do, we often end up needing it for a project weeks or months later on. It is especially difficult because we intend to build our own home, so we need a certain amount of stuff for it. Much is in the nature of building supplies (wood, countertops, metal, etc.) that will be useful when we start building, but can really get in the way when there is no easy place to store it. We also try to repurpose and recycle materials as often as possible, finding creative ways to resolve problems. Like when we needed to build a pen and shelter for our first goats with just what was lying around on the property (we spent about $4 total on clips for the gate. That is it); the Goatagon was the product of our creativity.

Yesterday I was once again thankful that we and my in-laws have this tendency to keep items we may need in the future. Early in the morning during my husbands routine of feeding and watering the goats, one of the little ones (Her name is Rune) got her back leg stuck in the fence of the goat pen and broke it. Hubby was very upset and came to get me inside, where I was working on the goat milk and breakfast preparations. We checked it out, and it was indeed broken cleanly between the hock and the knee along the cannon bone. 

Neither of us had ever dealt with something like this before, but since I remembered reading a few months prior about goats and broken bones (and in light of our recent successful experiences with our goofy dog), I felt confident that we could deal with it ourselves.

We quickly grabbed some thin scrap wood from the garage/shop, and some self-adhesive bandage from my mother-in-laws vast stores of random medical supplies (she was a nurse until she retired) and set about making a splint to keep her leg together while we figured out if there was another way to keep it stable. The way it worked out, Hubby realigned the bones and wrapped the splint while I held the goat and kept her stable and helped keep the wood from moving too much. It seemed pretty easy to wrap, and she didn't complain much while we did it. In fact, she happily munched a little grain we set out without so much as a peep. Of course, it was too easy. After setting her back in the pen with her newly stabilized leg, we set about our own breakfast and research on goats and broken bones.

My father-in-law, in his infinite wisdom (insert heavy sarcasm here) claimed that you couldn't put a cast on a goats leg, and we should just splint it (using the materials we already did, only he treated it as his original idea). During our research we found that you can either cast or splint a broken leg, and it should heal just fine after the 4-6 weeks it takes for a bone to knit. We both thought that a cast would be the way to go, but after spending a few hours calling around the various medical supply places in the nearest town we weren't able to locate any plaster cast material. Weird. The ironic thing is that I have several rolls of the stuff back at our home since that is what I have used to make plaster casts of peoples faces for my artwork.

So after also calling a vet (who was currently being snowed in, in the next state over and couldn't drive the hour here to check on our little doe), we decided that we needed to replace the splint with a studier one. We also realized that she would do better in an "isolation" ward so that Alice wouldn't act like a normal goat and head butt her or push her around while she is healing. So we gathered our supplies again, plus some metal splint material normally used for fingers (and an ideal size for an almost yearling doe) and we set about to re-splint her leg. It wasn't as easy this time around. I think the leg was starting swell more, so she was pretty unhappy with having the bones realigned and splinted again (and was rather vocal about it). We also had our daughter take photos (hence the occasional finger in the way and viewpoint) since I had to pin down the doe so her leg could be worked on by my wonderful husband. I am sure it was quite the scene, with us doing the mending while also having to answer her questions, keep Rune calm, make sure our son was staying out of the way, while handing over the necessary supplies as they were needed. We ended up putting her in a large dog kennel (another very useful item we rescued from a neighbors trash) in the garage where we can keep her warm, dry, and in a small confined area for her recovery. Hopefully we can set her out in a few weeks once it starts healing, but we will have to play it by ear and see how it goes.

I suppose there are several lessons to be found here, if you are the sort to look for them. Always be prepared (luckily my husband is a former Boy Scout, and a creative man to boot) would be an important one. He says this last year has been all about learning patience and a certain amount of veterinary medicine, which I would not argue with at all!! Prepare for the worst but expect the best; I feel is one that is always good to keep in mind. And to bring us back full circle, dear readers: Never throw anything away. You never know when you may need it to fix a goats' broken leg.