Getting a Trim

The neighbors have a flock of chickens that are in a chicken run.  Most of them are, anyway.  There are a few hens that like to fly up over the fence and meander over into our yard .  They make a beeline for the flower beds where they like to scratch all the mulch out of the bedding in search of worms.  We love our neighbors, but we don't love the hens scratching in the beds.  They also like to scratch the mulch out from around the citrus trees.

At some point we'll have over a half dozen chickens visiting in our yard.  Over the past several months, I've made it a challenge to catch each of the offending hens with a net, clip their wings and send them back to the chicken run where they won't be able to run to our yard ever again.  I've caught all but two of them.  Today, I saw one in the yard, so I got the net and clippers and ran her down until I cornered her where I could catch her.  She made a lot of racket!  She was not a happy bird.  Her freedom ended, but she should count her blessings.  She lived to see another day.

I used some tin snips to cut the feathers back on both wings.  Really, cutting them off of only one wing does the trick, but I wanted to make doubly sure she was grounded.  Feathers were flying and she was squawking.  All the noise riled up the rooster and the guineas in their yard.  They were empathizing their caught comrade.

With feathers clipped, I walked the perpetrator back over next door.

I dropped her over the fence and she scampered away.  Her pride was hurt, but she'll be okay tomorrow.

Now there's one more to catch and clip.  She's a smart bird, though.  Rather than allowing herself to get cornered like the others, she runs toward the neighbor's fence and with a running start, flies right over.  I'll have to think up another plan to try to outsmart the smart bird.  It's sort of like Wile E. Coyote and Roadrunner!

2026 Meat Birds - Week One

Each Wednesday for the next 8 weeks, we'll bring you along as we watch our Cornish Cross meat birds mature until it is time for slaughter.  Last Wednesday we got 51 birds in and put them out in our makeshift brooder under a heat lamp.  We only turn it on at night as it is in the mid-90s during the day - no heat lamp needed.  

This week we lost one bird unexpectantly.  A rare rain came through in the afternoon and the heat lamp was off.  Some rain (not much) and thunder and lightning must have got them wet and scared and they piled up in a pile.  It didn't take me long to check on them, but one was laying dead at the bottom of the pile.  That was our lagniappe bird.  We ordered 50 and got 51.  Any others that die are on us!

After one week, I've expanded the circumference of the brooder as they are growing and need more space.  We're still feeding the Game Bird 24% protein feed, morning, noon and night.  I also swapped out the three quart sized waterers for a gallon-sized one.  They are drinking a lot of water, and it is easier to fill one than three.  We're still adding 1 tablespoon of apple cider vinegar per gallon of water.

Each year we have a little process we do on Wednesday night.  I reach down and scoop up one average sized bird and inspect it.  Although only a week old, you can see the white feathers coming in on the wingtips.  The rest of the body still has the yellow "peach fuzz."  That will be changing soon.

So each Wednesday night I'll get the kitchen scale out and put a sheet of paper on it.  I don't want the chick pooping on the scale.  The chick will be positioned on the scale and we'll do weekly weigh-ins to see how they are growing.  Here's the first chick on the first week's weigh in:

After one week the average chick weighs 8 ounces.  I looked in records from last year and at the one week time frame, it weighed in at 6 1/2 ounces.  So far we're a little bit ahead.  Remember our goal at week 8 is to have an 8 pound bird that will yield a 6 pound carcass.

See ya back next Wednesday night for the Week 2 Weigh-in!

Making Sourdough Cinnamon Rolls

Cinnamon rolls are a real treat around our house.  I'm sure you love them too - hot out of the oven with a cup of coffee!  There was a very kind lady who attended our church whose specialty was baking homemade cinnamon rolls.  She has passed away, but we still fondly remember when she would come to our house and knock on our door with a pan full of fresh, homemade cinnamon rolls still hot from the oven in her hands.  They wouldn't last long, that's for sure.

Tricia makes sourdough weekly.  She makes loaves of bread, hamburger buns, hot dog/poboy buns, dinner rolls, and all sorts of other goodies - all sourdough.  Sunday morning she was making sourdough cinnamon rolls and I thought I would capture the process for you.  She makes her sourdough the normal way and then sweetens the dough.  A cinnamon/sugar/butter combination is whipped up and put on top of the dough once rolled out into a rectangle.

The cinnamon concoction is spread evenly over the dough and then chopped pecans are sprinkled on top.

The dough is a little sticky, so you have to be careful with this step, lifting the edge with a tool and beginning to roll (hence the name cinnamon roll) the dough up into a big "log."

Almost done.  You can see how that tool is helpful in getting the dough 'un-stuck' from the counter.

And here we are.  Ready to start cutting into individual cinnamon rolls.

The tool is used to cut the log into individual rolls.  The left side (as you're looking at it) is done.  The ones on the right have to be cut one more time.

The rolls are arranged in a pan and baked.  We did have another pan with four of them that I didn't show in the photo.

A glaze is whipped up and poured over the top while still a little warm.

Now comes the best part - eating them!  I took a big bite out of this one.  Delicious!

Whether someone drops off a pan of these at your house or if you make a pan of them yourself, you can't go wrong with homemade sourdough cinnamon rolls.

A Test for Betsy

It's time to test Besty, our new Jersey calf, to see if she's A2/A2.  This is a genetic test that is done to determine if she'll produce milk with only the A2 beta-casein protein.  Lots of milk customers seek out milk that is A2/A2 - meaning it lacks the A1 protein as A2/A2 milk is more easily digestible.

Clarabelle was A2/A2.  Elsie is A2/A2, however, up to this point in time, we haven't been able to get Elsie pregnant.  LuLu, Besty's mom, is NOT A2/A2, but there is a chance that Nicky, the bull (Betsy's father)is and that would mean that there is a chance that Betsy is A2/A2 afterall.

It's a simple enough test to perform.  We caught Betsy.  She is wild as a March hare.  I'm going to start working on halter breaking her.  Once we caught her, we put a rope halter on her.  Stroking her neck, we were able to get her calmed down a bit.  She's a healthy, strong little thing.  We checked her head from when we de-horned her and no horn buds are growing.  It appears to be a good, clean job and she'll have no horns or scurs.

The test involves brushing out her tail hairs so that they are clean.

Then you pull out some hairs from her tail head, ensuring you get the root follicle with the hair.  Generally, you try to pull two or three at a time.  You must send in 20 hairs with the follicle.

Once you have a bundle of 20 hairs with the roots all facing the same direction, you twist the bundle and tape it down to the test paper and mail it off to the lab.

We should hear back from the American Jersey Cattle Association somewhere between 17 and 30 days.  Even if Betsy's A1/A2, she'll provide us with good Jersey milk, high in butterfat.  If she's A2/A2, that will be an added benefit.  We'll let you know if she "passes" her test.

The Piddler on the Roof

My work puts me in front of a computer a lot of the time, so once I get to a stopping point during the day, I like to get outside and get some sunshine and piddle around.  Today, I knew exactly what I needed to do.  The live oak trees are continually growing, their heavy branches sinking lower each day.  The branches form a canopy over the roof.  This can be a good thing as it provides an abundance of shade, hopefully helping out with our electricity bill.  The bad thing is when they start touching the roof.  Storms and winds like we're accustomed to can push the limbs into the shingles and damage the roof, and we don't want that.

Today's task between computer work was to lean an extension ladder on the roof, climb up just as high as I could and trim the low-hanging branches with a pole saw.  I bought this little electric extendable pole saw years ago for only $69.  It has paid for itself over and over and over.  I get so much use out of it, with little to no maintenance other than buying a new blade or two for it each year.

One can get himself into trouble on the roof.  I think of King David who, up on the roof of his palace, spotted the lovely Bathsheba.  One thing led to another and I bet he wishes he could have stayed off the roof that day.  He certainly paid a high cost for what he did.  Seeing her from his vantage point on the roof put things in to motion that he would live to regret.  King David got into trouble on that roof.  I got myself into trouble on the roof today.  Nope, I want to assure you that I was not on top of the roof lusting.  I was working.  

My mistake was that I was working without notifying Miss Tricia.  She gets all worried when I do things like this.  I was trying to be quiet, cutting away and had branches falling.  All was going well and I was getting a lot accomplished until one particularly large limb hit the roof with a thud.  Uh oh, I thought.  Moments later, Tricia came around the corner with a look of concern on her face.  "Kyle, you're supposed to tell me when you do this.  You could fall.  I can't believe.  You need someone holding the ladder..."  She's right.  I was far from OSHA compliant and there are risks to be up on a ladder on top of a roof.  I apologized and had her hold the ladder while I lopped one final branch.  Then I put up the ladder and saw, rolled up the extension cord and finished my piddling for the day.

But I wasn't done.  If I would've stopped there, I would have disappointed some animals out back.  I hauled the branches out to the cows and goats for an afternoon snack.  You can see Elsie in the foreground and Rosie in the background, enjoying eating the leaves off the limbs.  The bull and all the goats were eating on branches that I had already thrown in the back.

With that job out of the way, I'll stay off the roof for a while and go back in and sit in front of the computer and get some work done.

Can You Hear the Chirping?

Nope, I'm not talking about the smoke detector with the battery going out.  It's that time again.  We pulled out one of the last remaining gallon bags of cut up chicken and figured out that it's time to order Cornish Cross Meat Birds.  I priced around and ended up ordering from the hatchery that's nearest us - Ideal Poultry in Cameron, TX.

Let me tell ya, day old meat bird chicks are doggone expensive these days!  We ordered 50 of them.  When all the dust settled after the shipping, taxes and fees added in, they were $4.38 per bird.  You read that right.  I had a little sticker shock but put the order in.  They confirmed the shipment for September 16th.  This morning we got a call from our local post office: "You have a box of live birds.  Come and get them."  We did.  We could hear the chirping when we opened the post office door.  Well, my wife could.  I'm as deaf as a post.

"I'd like a box of chicken.  No sides."

After leaving the post office, we went to the feed store and bought some 28% protein game bird starter.  Once home, I went to the barn and pulled down from the storage in the loft some metal siding we use as a brooder and got it all set up in the chicken tractor, dangling a heat lamp over it and filling water containers with a water and apple cider vinegar mixture.  I was going to use the paper to put feed on, but Tricia convinced me to use our chicken feed troughs instead.

We pray no varmints eat our chickens before we do.

Let's see the success rate of mailing live birds through the US postal service.  I pulled off the top of the box.  They seemed to be mighty content.  Not a single one dead.  Now the first task is I take them out of the box, counting them.  I dip their little heads in water and make sure they drink.  Then I set them down in the brooder.  Rinse. Wash. Repeat.  We got 51 birds.  They usually will give you a little lagniappe in the even that some die in transit.

"Tweet, tweet."

They are cute little critters - right now.  However, they don't stay cute for very long.  Each week for the next 8 weeks - likely on Wednesday, we'll take you on a journey with us so you can see their growth - from cradle to grave.  Sounds harsh, I know, but we raise these chicks for food.  In eight weeks they should be 8 pounds and yield a 6 pound carcass.

Winner, winner, chicken dinner

Here are all 51 chicks in their new home.  They are all spread out and that lets you know that the heat lamp is positioned correctly.  If it was too hot, they'd be up against the wall.  If it was too cold, they'd be all piled up.  They'll stay in the brooder until they get feathers and then we'll remove the brooder and let them forage on grass in the backyard as we push the chicken tractor so they get fresh grass each day.  They'll fertilize the soil so that the white Dutch clover and the crimson clover comes up lush this spring.  The honeybees will love it!  Ah, the circle of life.  Everyone benefits, well, almost everyone.  I walked out tonight to check on them and heard a peck, peck, pecking sound.  As I got nearer, I saw that the heat lamp was attracting mosquitoes.  The chicks were eating the mosquitoes as they were attracted to the light.  Very opportunistic.  

We put a blue tarp on top of the chicken tractor to help keep them dry in case of rain, fastening the tarp down with zip ties but leaving the ends and bottom open to keep good air flow going.

Hopefully, we'll be bringing a sizable amount of these 51 birds to butcher some time around mid-November. 

Lost and Found

Ginger

I don't talk much about our cat, Ginger.  Most of the time, we talk about cows or goats or chickens or honeybees, so Ginger doesn't get a lot of attention on Our Maker's Acres Family Farm blog.  I'll take a moment tonight to introduce her to you.  She's an outside cat but one very well taken care of.  She's very finicky and likes her food "fresh."  We put her dry cat food in a bowl and she nibbles on it and won't eat any more because it's gone 'stale.'  I try to fool her by dumping the stale food back in the bucket, shaking it up and pouring some of the fresh/stale cat food in her bowl.  She doesn't appreciate this.  I don't appreciate her wastefulness.  To be honest, I can't be described as a 'cat person,' but she's our cat and I'll admit I like her.

Ginger supplements her cat food menu by hunting.  We find mice, rats, birds, squirrels and rabbits (or parts of their uneaten carcasses) on the back door welcome mat that she brings to prove to us that she is no domesticated animal but is a proud lioness feeding on wild prey.  You've got to really watch your step when you walk out the back door as her prey is not whole but in pieces.  Yuck!

In addition to hunting nocturnally, she primarily sleeps on top of our vehicles during the day.  We have to wake this lazy cat up when we want to drive off.  She'll stretch and slowly hop off of the car.  She does get affection from the whole family, although we seldom bring her into the house - maybe on very cold days.  She has very thick fur and sheds, and I don't want that foolishness inside the house.

She has been with us since 2017, and if my math is right, that makes her around 9 years old.  That makes her somewhat of a fixture around our place.  Tricia and I laughed at her sleeping on top of Tricia's car Friday afternoon.  She had her paw curled around the top of the hood enjoying a cat nap.  When I went out Saturday morning to feed her, oddly - no Ginger.  Tricia noticed and we began calling for her, walking around looking.  No Ginger.  Same thing that evening.  We saw hide nor hair of her.

Saturday morning came.  No Ginger.  Saturday night came and again, she didn't show her face.  Her absence is almost unprecedented.  One other time, years ago, she disappeared for a couple of days and returned all beat up.  She had been in a fight.  Maybe the same thing happened?  You might think this weird, but we prayed for Ginger.  Nothing is too small or inconsequential for God.  Sunday morning came and Ginger was still AWOL.  I saw an animal carcass on the road a bit down the road and cautiously went to inspect.  It was a possum!  Russ came over and patrolled in the woods behind the barn when we told her she was missing.  Still no Ginger.  She's not looking for a tom cat because she's fixed.  Although we retained hope, we were sad.  Things were different without Ginger around the house.

This morning I walked outside at 6 AM and... Ginger was in the garage!  She returned home.  We gave thanks to God for answering our prayer.  The prodigal had returned.  Now, she wouldn't let me get near her.  I checked her out from a distance.  She looked unscathed except for her right eye.  It was filled with water, maybe scratched by something.  I think she can still see out of it.  She was acting real reclusive and jumped on top of the freezer in the garage and hid behind the propane tanks.  To celebrate her return, we killed the fatted calf.  Well, sort of... Tricia fed her a can of 'real' cat food from a can, rather than the dry stuff, and she ate it.  We think she got into a fight with (maybe) a mink or another varmint and is scared, gun shy and prefers solitude while she convalesces.  Perhaps the family members of the raccoon and mink I killed last week are looking for revenge, taking out their vengeance on Ginger?  Who knows, but Ginger is back!  Meow, meow...