I am not a real farmer. I am a college educated woman who grew up in the suburbs. After being the kool aid mom one day too many in the burbs, my dh and I moved ourselves to the country to connect our family to nature. Since we've had two years of firsts. First lessons in milking our goats, trimming hooves, growing flowers and veggies, caring for chickens, figuring out and finding a livestock guard dog, giving animal injections, fighting poison ivy, and even animal husbandry.
I have to say all these things have had their challenges, but I am tied in love this land and all that surrounds me.
Here's a recent example. My free range chickens have been acting wiggy. The hens scratched the hay in their laying boxes into strange and wild shapes. They are not laying at all in one of the coops. They are hanging out in different places than usual. I didn't understand what was up til I asked my husband to change the hay to see if that helped them mosey back to the nesting boxes (instead of laying hide and seek eggs behind bicycles in the outbuilding, and in a corner of the goat shed). He found wasps (!) IN the hay. No wonder my sweet little ladies were acting strangely. DH sprayed the wasps out and we are waiting for the girls to return to normal. I hope they do soon. I'm sick of looking for eggs all over the farm.
As I said, I am not a real farmer. Real farmers eat their chickens when they aren't laying anymore. I guess we will have a convalesent home for aged chickens, because I love them so.
We do drink our goat milk, but only one of the five produces. So, we have four other really cute goat pets. Real farmers sell their goats or eat them. My children would never speak to me again if either of those options were chosen.
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