Murder at Hedgeapple Creek

...or was it?

mur⋅der

–noun

1.

Law. the killing of another human being under conditions specifically covered in law. In the U.S., special statutory definitions include murder committed with malice aforethought, characterized by deliberation or premeditation or occurring during the commission of another serious crime, as robbery or arson (first-degree murder), and murder by intent but without deliberation or premeditation (second-degree murder).

2.	Slang. something extremely difficult or perilous: That final exam was murder!

3.	a group or flock of crows.

–verb (used with object)

4.	Law. to kill by an act constituting murder.

5.	to kill or slaughter inhumanly or barbarously.

Depends on how much you want to stretch the definition. OK, it wasn't a human being, but it was calculated, and it was extremely difficult. Well, no... it was physically easy; but it was mentally difficult. It's always difficult, but it's part of life on a farm. It was not a flock of crows. Yet, it was definitely not inhumane or barbarous!


If you don't want to read about the downside of life with farm animals, then stop here; but if you've ever fancied having a mini-farm with a few chickens, then you might as well be prepared.


'Angel Wings' is what I called the chick. She was so beautiful - light red changing to brilliant white. When her wings were spread in the sunlight, she looked as though she was ready to soar through the heavens. If ever a chicken was beautiful, it was Angel Wings. (dirty, nasty birds)
She was one of the tamer birds. Angel Wings stood out from the others, as she grew more beautiful every day. She stood out in another way though, that wasn't a good thing...


Hubby was out gathering eggs when we heard a ruckus. One of the black hens was screeching. Hubby looked to see Angel Wings' rear sticking up from a nest. She sat up and looked at him with egg dripping from her beak. She was eating the egg. She had already acquired the taste. According to the books Hubby has studied, once a hen acquires the taste for eggs, there's no turning back. It must be destroyed. I'm not going to tell about that.


Reality isn't always pretty on a farm. You must keep in mind the purpose of raising chicks. If you want them as pets, then have them. Fine. On the other hand, if you want them for eggs, then it's a whole different thing. Luckily, I'm not fond of birds. Oh sure, the finches at the feeder are pretty and fun to watch; but as pets?


My mom has parakeets. They're nasty. When I'm over there, I do let them hop onto my finger and I talk to them. I'm not an animal hater... but I would never have them in my house. If something happens to Mom, someone else better take the birds. OK, I've gotten off track...

We have a lot invested in the chickens. Selling eggs will never pay for it all. (Hubby went a little overboard on the chicken house. He tends to do that.) We do hope that selling the extra eggs will pay for the daily expense of keeping the chickens. We prefer to eat things that are not tainted with hormones and pesticides. Aside from dusting for mites, our chickens are all natural and cage free. That's the ironic part...

Chances are, if our birds were caged on a big poultry farm, Angel Wings would have never had the chance to taste an egg. She wouldn't have access to them. I imagine there is a mechanism to roll the eggs away from the cage as soon as it is laid. Nobody's going to reach under thousands of chickens all day long checking for eggs!


With free range chickens, they share nests. Even with empty nests available, we've watched one hen wait until the other hen is finished and vacates the nest; then she jumps in for her turn. Then go in and out as they please. They roam the fenced area looking for bugs in the ground and whatever else chickens do. We feel they must be satisfied with the size of the area, since we know they can fly out anytime they please. (No, we haven't clipped their wings.) The entire area under the ten-by-twenty house is elevated and open, so they can go under for shade or to get out of the rain without having to go back inside. We feel our chickens have it pretty good; but like I said, in a caged environment, Angel Wings would still be with us.


So, if you've thought about raising a few chickens in order to enjoy your own fresh eggs, does this make you reconsider?


On a much happier note... Hubby's final count on the corn: 250 ears in the freezer!

Stars of the Family

I couldn't resist sharing this video. I do hope the link works. My daughter posted this one on her facebook page. My two youngest grands, Grace and Melody, are performing their original hit song in a local pub they call The Basement.

The lyrics aren't quite as deep as Dylan, but for their age... Hey, they're having fun!

Today at Hedgeapple Creek Farm

That's what Hubby calls the farm... Well, that's what he calls it for the present time. First it was Triple Creek because technically you can count three creeks. Then he called it Crooked Creek. I liked that name. We have absolutely the most winding creek you ever saw. You probably cover several miles if you walk it vs 1000 feet as the crow flies. It flows all four compass directions! Depending on his mood, he's had many names for the place. Someday I'll paint a sign.

Anyway, today he picked corn with his dad. Good corn! Last year he switched and planted some type that didn't have as much silk, so was easier to husk. Yeah, so! It didn't have much flavor and the kernels were tough. Now that he's back to growing Golden Jubilee, I can speak to him again. A lot of people love Silver Queen corn, but not me. He used to grow both... Golden Jubilee for me, Silver Queen for himself and his folks. However, when I'd cook the Golden, they'd all remark about how much better it tasted. Well, yeah... That's why I like it.

They're not finished picking yet, but there's already over a hundred ears in the freezer... and we had some for supper tonight. Here's a picture of the corn from the kitchen door. They're in there somewhere.
They didn't do as much weeding this year as normal. There was quite a bit of morning glory vines growing through the corn. This ear had a vine wrapped around it as it grew. Makes for an interesting pattern.
I thought I'd check on the Tennessee Muskmelon patch. Hubby raises them in a raised bed. (Pardon the pun.) Sadie decided to inspect them a little closer. These melons grow oblong, like a watermelon. The strange weather we're having might interfere with the melon harvest.

Today was a beautiful day for stretching out on the deck for a little sun. That's what Little Bear thought anyway...
Here is some vary rare footage. Chubs and Squeaky are partners in crime (chasing off Mickey), but I've never seen Chubs do this before...



Background: Chubs and Little Bear are siblings. Squeaky is LB' s son.

Goats in the Rain

The other day I had a post called Fair Weather Goats where I talked about how the goats will not stand out in the rain. Today I caught them on my camera. This was taken with my zoom at max; so even though it looks like it was pouring down rain, it was a very light sprinkle. (I was standing outside with my camera.) As soon as they feel the first drop, they head for shelter. The opening for them to get back to their house from where they are is about 30 feet down the fence in the woods. I don't know which are more timid... the goats or the chickens. Probably the goats.

A New Award for ME!

Rae, over at WeatherVane, has made my day! She was so sweet in honoring me with this Silver Shoe of Sincerity Award. I hope this doesn't sound boastful, but I am a sincere person. If I leave you a compliment on your writing, photography, humor, whatever... I truly mean it. One of the things I love most about being here in Blogville is all the sincere, caring folks I've found. I have made many new friends that I truly adore!


According to Rae: The award is given in recognition for sincere and positive blog interaction. The best part of the award is there are no rules. If I choose I can pass it on to someone else who is positive and sincere.


This award was created by Susan at A Walk In My Shoes. You can read about the award here. I really don't have adequate time right now to figure out which of my lovely fellow bloggers I'd like to pass it along to, so for now, I'm just going to savor the moment. Thank you Rae. You know I love you!

Geriatric Strippers

Come on... Tell me the truth... Did you click on this post because of the title? You sick puppy! I'm not here to talk about senior citizens performing a pole dance. No, think more 'Granny sitting around in the too-thin nightgown'. That's my mom. If you stop by her apartment anytime after five, she's sitting around in her night gown. I'm going to be her someday...

Remember when your kids were little and there was always at least one that you had to keep an eye on for fear of them stripping down in public? When one of my grands (won't mention any names here) was small, I didn't know she had any clothing besides panties. Mommy and Daddy could not keep her clothes on her! I'm not sure whether it was about restriction or temperature; but obviously she was more comfortable naked.

Most of us are not so comfortable naked, especially in public. As a matter of fact, we're quite comfortable in our clothes. Of course, when we have to dress up for special occasions, we often slip into something more comfortable when we get home. I've found that what I think to be comfortable changes through the years.

When I was in my thirties, as soon as I got home from work, off came the shoes! I've always been a barefoot girl. Even during my six-inch-heels days; at home I was barefoot. In the cold season, I'd slide on my favorite slippers. Comfy.

In my forties, came the bra... When I got home from work, I kicked off the shoes and took off my bra. I'd grab an nice cold glass of tea and plop down in my T-shirt and jeans. Ah... then I was comfortable.

Now, I'm in my fifties , retired, and living on this little farm. If you read my farm blog, you know my life is very casual. Dressed up is putting on something with sleeves. But I'm no longer comfortable sitting around in T-shirt and jeans. For one thing, I'm at that point in life where a T-shirt is just plain too hot! For another, jeans are no longer comfortable. Hard to imagine? I don't know why, but I'm just never really relaxed until I've slipped into my jammy pants. As a matter of fact, there are days that I don't get out of my jammy pants. My horses don't seem to care, so might as well be comfy.

Now, I'm not the person you see going to the grocery in their PJs... yet. But I am the person standing in the funky jammy pants beside the mailbox on that country road. I'm starting to get worried though... It seems I have a few pairs of jammy pants that just aren't that comfortable. Maybe I'll ask Mom where she gets those night gowns.