Fox in the Box

We've all joked about children getting presents when they are younger and quickly grow tired of the toy and spend more time playing with the box that the toy came in.  And it's true.  I've always loved boxes.  It was so much fun as a child when my parents got a new appliance like a refrigerator or washer or dryer.  Those boxes were fun!  We made forts out of them, spaceships, race cars.  A child's imagination could run wild with what you could do with an ordinary box.

As it turns out, when I grew up, I never outgrew my love of boxes.  When we make a new purchase, I put the empty boxes up in the attic because, "that's a good box and it'll come in useful one day."  The other day, Tricia ordered a new crock pot.  When we have 'dinner on the ground' at church, it is so doggone handy to have a crock pot to bring your offering to the fellowship hall, plug it in to keep the food warm, and place on the serving line.

That new purchase meant we have a new box.  But we have so many boxes already.  Tricia placed the empty box outside in the garage to put in the trash can.  But now we can't possibly throw it away.  Why, you may ask, can't we throw it away?

Because Ginger, the cat, has adopted the box as her new home.

Instead of the cat in the hat, I call her the fox in the box. 

Each day, she's in her box where she naps in solitude, in safety, in security, tucked away out of sight.  And it's a good thing that she's not out patrolling around because just outside the garage door on the patio, there is and adventure taking place.  Like Marlin Perkins on Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, there is the hunter and the prey.

Let's take a look.  Can you spot that bird on top of the patio chair?

That's a Carolina Wren and she's got food in her mouth.  She's bringing bugs to feed her two babies that are in the planter behind the ivy plant.  We watched as she repeatedly fed them.  The babies were big, almost full grown.  The Carolina Wren was mighty brave, trying to raise her young in a nest at ground level instead of in a tree.  A ground level nest provides zero protection for her or her two babies from the huntress.  But she is a really wise wren, and she surveilles the area, not giving away the location of her babies until she is absolutely sure that there is no danger.  Then she swoops in and brings a breakfast of bugs to two open mouthed baby birds.

We were worried about the mama wren and her babies.  But the babies grew up quickly on their diet of bugs and apparently flew out of the nest for they were gone today.  They owe their lives to the fact that the carnivorous cat was otherwise preoccupied with cat-napping in the cardboard crock pot box.

Not So Lucky

Ginger is our cat.  Sometimes we call her "Meow Meow" and other times she is known as Gingivitis.  She couldn't really be described as a house cat as she spends most of her time outdoors.  From time to time she'll scratch on the window screen or the French doors to let us know that she'd like to come inside and sleep all day in the sunroom.  Ah, the leisurely and independent life of a cat.

True to the reputation cats have gained of being finicky, she will beg for cat food, even when there is some in her dish in the garage.  Over time we have come to understand that she wants "fresh" food because if we scoop a little more food on top, she'll eat on it.  Can you believe, the cat thinks her food is stale if it sits out for a few hours.  Ginger doesn't do leftovers.  Well, please don't tell her.  This will be a secret between you and me, okay?  When she's not looking, I'll quickly poor the "stale" food back into the container and then scoop it out again.  Magically, it is fresh again.  She has not caught on to my trickery... yet.

A couple of days ago, Ginger wasn't interested in food at all.  We were wondering if she might be sick.  Here is the patient.  She doesn't look ill, does she?

Tricia had me look outside on the patio outside the French doors.  Ginger wasn't eating because she was sick.  She wasn't eating because she was FULL.  The old girl had hunted the previous evening and killed a rabbit.  She dissected her kill, leaving the head on top, the cottontail to the left, the entrails to the right and two rabbit's feet.

I am not a superstitious person and I don't believe in luck.  But if I did, I would say that the lucky rabbit's foot saying has been proven to be not true - for the poor rabbit at least.  Le lapin.

Unlikely Friends

And the wolf will dwell with the lamb, and the leopard will lie down with the kid, and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little boy will lead them. Isaiah 11:6 (NASB)

The Bible tells us that in the Millennial Kingdom, members of the animal family will live peaceably with other animals and with humans as well.  What a sight that will be to behold.  As we listen to the news and learn of senseless violence and hatred and see many of our cities are becoming unlivable, we pray for this time of peace to come quickly.  According to Bible prophecy, however, there are many things that must take place between now and then.  God, give us the strength to endure.  May you find us faithful when you return.

I happened upon an event that made me think of that verse.  Cats are, by nature, independent animals.  They do their own thing.  Dogs are more friendly.  Dogs AND cats together are like oil and water or fire and ice.  But not all the time.  Check out this photo of our cat, Ginger, and our dog, Belle: 

It had been raining everyday (Raining cats and dogs, you might say) for two weeks.  Belle was miserable out in the pasture so we brought her into the garage after the first day.  At first Ginger kept her distance, but she warmed up to Belle, it seems.  She and Ginger have struck up a friendship.  The canine and feline have put aside their differences and have decided to give peace a chance.  

Introductions are in Order

In three days, it will have been 10 years since we first started this blog.  Where does the time go?  A good friend of our daughter suggested it might be a good idea to introduce the animals on Our Maker's Acres Family Farm.  What a great idea!  Over time, we've talked about each one, but it is a stellar idea to introduce each of them with a short bio.  

We live on a five acre piece of land with 3 acres in pasture.  As we introduce the animal family, you'll have two revelations: #1 That's a lot of animals on a little bit of land, and #2 These are some truly strange people!

Here.  We.  Go...

Here is Ginger, also known as "Gingivitis" or "Fat Cat."  She is an outdoor cat who loves to hunt.  We'll find the remnants of birds, mice, rats, moles, squirrels and various and sundry varmints that she occasionally leave us on the door mat.  Experience has taught us to look before we take that first step.  I'm not a 'cat person,' but Ginger is allowed from time to time to come inside.  

This is Belle, or affectionately known as "Bellie".  She is a Great Pyrenees Livestock Guardian Dog.  The name sounds helpful, but Bellie is a work in progress.  As it turns out, she eats live chickens.  Guarding them is a lofty goal as she's turned out to be the "fox" in the henhouse.  Literally.  She loves to roam and dig gargantuan holes wherever she goes.  She is a sweet dog, though, and we are trying to teach her, patiently, and overlook her shortcomings in hopes that she can be rehabilitated from her wayward proclivities.

This is Rosie, or Rose Ethel, as we sometimes formally address her.  She is a Jersey cow.  She's getting up there in age - about 13 years old.  She's given us many calves and given us gallons and gallons of fresh milk.  She does not like hot weather.  In the summer, she can be found lying in the shade, panting.  Like a pig, if she finds a muddy spot, she's not above lying in it and getting herself filthy.  She's gentle, as most Jersey's are.  

This lady is Clarabelle, or Clarice, for short.  She's also a Jersey cow who is about 10 years old.  She's a sweetheart.  We have been milking her everyday for the last year and four months.  We just dried her off.  She gives A2/A2 milk which is highly sought after.

May we also introduce you to Elsie.  Elsie is Clarabelle's heifer.  She's quarantined in a separate pasture as we're weaning her.  If allowed to be with Clarabelle, she'd nurse her, so she stays by herself.  That's why she looks forlorn.  The rest of the animals are just on the other side of the fence and we do put the goats in with her to keep her company from time to time, although she and the goats aren't fluent in the same language.

This little lady is LuLu.  LuLu is Rosie's heifer.  You may be wondering about the contraption in her nose.  It is a weaning plate.  The plate keeps her from nursing on Rosie while we dry Rosie off.  The plate doesn't hurt her (other than her feelings, perhaps).  She is industrious and figured out the first day how to continue to eat grass with it.  In a month, we'll loosen the wing nut and pull it out.  

We are watching the cycles of Rosie and Clarabelle.  When they go in heat, we'll mark the calendar and bring them down the road to be bred by a registered Jersey bull.  Late this fall or early winter, we'll bring Elsie and LuLu down to be bred by the same bull as they'll be of breeding age by then.

Meet Annie, the Nubian goat.  She's a dairy goat, originally from Africa.  Despite being black in color, the heat doesn't bother her.  She's the oldest goat on the farm and has given us many kids.  Her momma was Nellie, our first Nubian we ever got.  Goats multiply almost like rabbits since they lots of times have twins or triplets.

Here's Matilda.  We call her the "opportunistic one," because she'll always find a way to sneak stealthily into the barn and clean up any sweet feed the cows left behind.  She's fast.  Poor girl just lost both of her kids during kidding.  They were her first kids.  

This fellow is named Buckwheat, or Buckster, for short.  He's our Nubian buck and is quite a prolific gentleman who has fathered more animals than we can count.  He uses his head as a battering ram.  He also stinks something terrible!  We try to keep our distance from him.  He has an impressive beard.

This doeling is named Kaleidoscope.  We call her Callie, for short.  She's named appropriately for her multicolored face.  She's Annie's kid and was a bottle baby, since Annie had mastitis.  She cries incessantly for a bottle whenever we see her and like to jump up on you and get right in front of you when you're walking.   

May we introduce you to Mocha.  She's named for her light coffee latte colored spots that cover her body.  She's Agnes' daughter.  She and Callie are besties and they run around all day getting into all sorts of mischief.  If I had that energy, I tell you what...

Here is Popcorn, or Poppy, as we call him lots of times.  He's named that because when he was just a little guy, he'd jump around just like popcorn in a hot skillet.  He is the only other male ruminant on the pasture other than Buckwheat.  

And the last member of the goat family, Agnes, or "Horned One."  She was picked on mercilessly by the other goats when she was just a kid.  We did not de-horn her.  Now, despite her small stature, her horns have enabled her to gain prominence and now she's the de facto boss, exerting her will, by ramming the others with her horns.  The others have paid a steep price for their earlier bullying of her.  Agnes has never forgiven them.  She can be a mean little momma, for sure.

We have more chickens that we can name, so we call all the hens, Sally, after Sally Henny penny from Beatrix Potter stories we read to the kids when they were young.

And finally, here is Sally and Sally putting in a hard day's work at the office, laying fresh eggs for us.  Happy hens, to be sure.  It's a good life.

And there you have it, the animal family that make up the menagerie at Our Maker's Acres Family Farm!

A Requiem For The Blue Jay

In the last post we showed how we rescued a hummingbird from certain death.  Not all heroes wear capes.  In this post, we show that not all stories have happy endings.  We solemnly eulogize Mr. Blue Jay.  DOA March 25, 2022.

Mr. Jay, you flew so proud,
Your flights were strategic and your shrieks were loud,

A backyard bully, you swooped and taunted,

You courted mates, your skills were vaunted.

But on that fateful day you met our cat,

She pounced, you dropped,

And that was that.

Your remains were deposited on our door mat.

Alas, you lie on cold, hard stone,
Your eyes are closed, your last flight flown,

In your dress blues, you wear whilst dead,

A tufted feather upon your head,

The sky was the domain you ruled,

Your prowess was certain,

You could not be fooled.

Your strength was unrivaled,
You were regal and fat,
But you met your match when you met our cat.

Rest in peace, Mr. Blue Jay.

The Hunter and the Hunted

We have a cat, and her name is Ginger.  Ginger is fat.  She is an outdoor cat, but likes to come in.  She knows the window to our bedroom and will meow by our window to be let in.  Early in the morning when she sees the light go on in our Sun Room, she'll meow by that window to be let in.  Tricia opens the door and she'll go sit on her favorite chair and sleep for the better part of a day.  Ginger is lazy.

I am not much of a 'cat person.'  I'm not mean to Ginger, by any means but not a whole lot of warmth between us, either.  My wife keeps reminding me of the good things that Ginger does.  As if to put an exclamation mark on that thought, the other day Ginger proved her worth to me.  Our fat cat came around the corner in brisk pursuit of something.  She pounced into the Louisiana Iris that grows alongside the patio like a tiger chasing an antelope.

She brought out a mouse and paraded in front of me to show off her skills and prowess as a hunter.

She sat down and let the mouse go.  The mouse ran away, but Ginger was quickly on top of the mouse, toying with it with her paws.  She played with it until she got bored and killed it.

Ginger dismembered the mouse and left what she didn't eat by the back door.  We always have to be careful when stepping out so that we don't step on remains of Ginger's prey.  Okay, I'll be honest and admit it, Ginger > mice.

And Just Like That... She's Back!

I had mentioned last week that our cat, Ginger, mysteriously disappeared.  Tricia had called me at work to tell me that Ginger had been missing since the afternoon before.  She missed supper and breakfast and was no where to be found.  She had never done that before.  She is an outside cat that hunts, but she also comes inside from time to time and is never far from home.

After two days we were more than concerned.  She was a family pet, but mostly was Benjamin's cat.  We have the worst luck with pets!  I went to a feed store in Sulphur, LA to get my solar powered electric fence charger worked on and noticed a hand-written sign announcing "Free Kittens."  I made a mental note to go back to the feed store, call the number and have them text me photos of the kittens.  However, Tricia mentioned, "How can we ever replace Ginger?  She was the perfect cat."

Well....  I got a text at work from Tricia in all caps saying, "GINGER IS BACK."  She just mysteriously showed up like nothing was wrong two days later.

What in the devil happened?  Where did she go?  Well, we'll never know since cats can't talk.  We do know she has a large cut next to her left eye.  She is acting real quiet and mainly naps all day.  She was initially having a difficult time hopping up on anything, so we assume she's sore.  But by Sunday afternoon, she had jumped on top of my car and was napping.

If I had to guess, I'd say she got into a scuffle with a raccoon, a possum, a dog, or other wild animal.  She probably got beaten and climbed up into a tree to nurse her wounds and escape her adversary.  Once the coast was clear, she returned home.

So everyone is happy and all is right with the world.  Well, at least at Our Maker's Acres Family Farm.  I trust you all had a nice weekend.

Where Are You?

Ginger.  Has anybody seen her?

While at work today, I talked to Tricia and sensed some sadness in her voice.  "Ginger's missing," she said.  Ginger is our cat.  She's mainly an outside cat, but there are times that she spends time indoors, sleeping on her favorite chairs.  "The last time I saw her was yesterday afternoon," she told me.  "She was sleeping on the trampoline.  Then she didn't come in for supper, nor breakfast, and I haven't seen her all day."

I got home at around 6 pm and there was still no sign of her.  There was a heaviness in our home.  Finally, Benjamin drove in from work and we regretfully told him the news.  Ginger is primarily Benjamin's cat, but he loves all the animals.  He was very quiet - just sitting in silence on the stairs for a while.  We went out and picked blueberries together and talked.  I explained to him that loving someone or something makes you vulnerable.  You love them and then they are gone.  There is an emptiness.  It hurts.  A big part of you wants to wall yourself off to protect yourself and never wants to ever feel that loss again.  But you must.  Loss is a part of life.  You have great memories and there is great sadness, but you must go on.  Benjamin understands.

Have you ever lost an animal?  It's tough.  Pets can be a good companion.  Ginger hunted rats and has been known to catch the occasional squirrel or bird for a snack.  We've had a bad streak going with our pets.  First, Russ' cat disappeared and then both of our dogs died earlier this year to sickness within a month of each other.  Whew.  Time to lighten the mood with a little humor from "Dumb and Dumber." 

Ginger is wearing a pink collar with our phone number on it.  We have been hoping and praying that Ginger shows up soon.  Come on home, Ginger!

Practicing Social Distancing

"You just call out my name, and you know wherever I am I'll come running to see you again,
Winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall, hey now, all you have to do is call and I'll be there yeah, yeah, you've got a friend." - James Taylor

I spent a little time in the garden today checking out the okra seedlings that are just popping up above the surface of the soil.  The green beans are all blooming and we'll be picking fresh snap beans shortly.  The sugar snap peas are finishing up and I'm now saving seed to replant this fall.  The tomatoes are blooming like crazy and we're hoping to have a good crop this year.  Last year was a dismal one.

As I closed the garden gate and walked over the bridge, something caught my eye.  In my peripheral vision I saw movement where there shouldn't have been, high up in the fork of a tree.

Why, it's Ginger, our cat.  She wants to be a house cat, I think, and sometimes Benjamin brings her indoors, but she mainly stays outside.  She's brought rats, mice, and birds to us to prove that she is a hunter.  She is pretty independent and bold.  Why is she up in the tree?

Then I follow the gaze of Ginger's eyes and see immediately why she's up in the tree.  Belle, our 3 month old Great Pyrenees puppy was stretched out on the cool concrete by the garage trying her best to have an innocent look on her face.  "What? Me?"  Ginger and Belle haven't exactly warmed up to one another.  I thought that they could be friends.  I think Belle would like to be friends with Ginger, but the feeling isn't mutual.

Or perhaps they're just practicing social distancing from one another?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

Other Working Animals on the Farm

With cows and goats and chickens on the property, one needs a little help.  I kind of talked about the help that we have on our little homestead farm a while back.  This weekend I was able to take some photos of our laborers that live in housing that we provide as remuneration for their hard work to ensure that our animals were safe.  These hardworking individuals are tasked with a multitude of duties that keep them busy, night and day, with rarely a day off. 

I thought I could reintroduce you to our... ahem... interns or working staff.  First there is Big Boy, our Great Pyrenees.  While technically a livestock guardian dog, his idea of guarding and protecting chickens proved to be not exactly what we were looking for.  One day we encountered him guarding our flock.  Sounds good, but the hen he was guarding was bleeding and flapping her broken wings as he was eating her.

Big Boy was banished from the pasture and now is a "watch dog."  He is posted outside the garage and barks his head off relentlessly at passersby and wandering dogs, cats, possums and squirrels.  Here is a photo of our busy animals in action - Big Boy and Ginger.

Ginger is our barn cat.  The idea is that she would live in our barn and hunt rats - except she doesn't reside in the barn.  She lives in our garage and hunts Cat Chow that's poured in her bowl.  She's gotten a little fat and instead of stealthily creeping up on rodents, her primary instinctual craving is for naps in the sun.

Sometimes, if particularly motivated, she'll roll over and change positions.  Due to Ginger's lack of relentless and energetic pursuit of pesky rodents that inhabit our barn, rats have multiplied faster than rabbits and we've resorted to allowing snakes, rat traps, poison and buckets of water do the job of dispatching the rodents in our barn.  Which works out quite nicely for Ginger, giving her more time for napping in the sun.

But she occasionally catches and kills and eats small birds.  A couple of weeks ago, we found remnants of a squirrel that she devoured.  Only a tail and a foot remained.  It must have been a very slow squirrel.

While Big Boy and Ginger might not be perfectly suited to do their appointed tasks, they're part of our family, and we accept them, warts and all.

Checking in on the Fall Garden

Gardening can be a risky enterprise sometimes.  In our side yard, something has been clipping my sugar snap peas and they haven't been able to grow very much.  As soon as they get any new growth, something nibbles it down to the ground.  Rabbits?  Rats?  I figured I would set one of my cage traps that I've had success eradicating all the possums in the neighborhood to catch the culprit.

Yeah...  No.  Cage traps are indiscriminate.  This cat is NOT the culprit, but boy was he mad.  I think it is the neighbor's cat.  With much hissing and discontent by the trapped feline, I was fortunately able to let him out of the trap without him scratching me to ribbons.  I hope my neighbor doesn't notice the cat's scratched up head that he got trying to escape from the cage.  Anyway, we have sugar snap peas trying to grow.

Here is my spinach.  It is young, but I have a 30 foot row of it and it appears to have all germinated.  Spinach is one of those things that is fantastic eaten fresh.  It doesn't even compare to the canned Popeye spinach.

I have two rows of carrots popping up.  There are three varieties planted: Danvers Orange, Cosmic Purple, and Atomic Red.  Our carrots always flat-out produce.  We still have bags of blanched carrots in the freezer from last year's crop.

Several varieties of lettuce are planted.  Here is a red romaine.

Here is a black seeded Simpson:

I like the fall garden because you can pretty much count on less bug pressure.  That isn't always the case.  Worms are eating my chioggia beets, bull's blood beets, and swiss chard like nobody's business!

Not to worry, though.  After we get a cool snap, the beets will put on new leaves and they'll be okay.  We need cool weather.  The bok choy is bolting.  They are wanting to flower and go to seed.  We find this makes the leaves bitter.  Cool weather would slow this down.  It appears to be cooling now, so maybe that will save the bok choy crop.  Otherwise, we'll feed all this to the milk cows.

Finally, we have some red Russian kale.  We only planted a third of a row this year as it is always so prolific.  We find that even though we eat it several times a week, we cannot possibly eat it all.  We give some away and we end up feeding a bunch to the cows.

Next week, perhaps we'll take a look at the tomatoes, okra, radishes, and cole crops.