Mommy Dearest

          We have five ducklings in Half-pint's bedroom and more should hatch this next Sunday. It's getting colder out, and we are still a good six weeks from fully feathered ducks. This brings us to our plan: 

1. Introduce the mommy duck to the babies

 2. Mommy will fall in love with the fluffy things and feel like keeping them warm. 

3. We move the babies to the duck condo outside,  while Mommy explains to Daddy that they're parents now.

4. Daddy duck will protect the little ones from the evil pecking hens.

5. We continue to add to their brood as the babies hatch.

Sounds good, doesn't it? We tried putting our dog kennel in the basement to introduce the Mommy to her babies, but she shivered in fear (couldn't have been from the temp because it was roasting in there). We let her observe them for little while before trying to put a couple in with her. She promptly nipped the little ones in the butt and the ducklings ran to Half-pint. There was no preening or happy looks. She was just instantly aggressive.  The Daddy did a very loud happy dance when the Mrs. was returned to the sweet honeymoon condo sans ducklings.  It was worth a try, but it looks like we will need to keep the heating lamps on for a while longer.

         Also, our hundreds of sea monkeys have not hatched at all. Note that there is a slight sense of relief when I type those words. I think it may have been the cooler temps that caused the hatch to fail. However, they might make an excellent summer birthday present if Half-pint wants to try again.

           Our farmlife count has gone up, but the division remains. It looks like Half-pint , not Paddles the duck, will be mommy dearest.

As the Duck Waddles: Mr. Peeper's Precocial Premier

           They're supposed to incubate for 28 days,  but apparently I wasn't reading our "Barnyard in Your Backyard" book loud enough for them to know what they're "supposed" to do (they take after their mother who laid them but never sat on them despite us telling her what she was "supposed" to do too).  Three days ahead of schedule,  five ducklings have hatched from the first batch of seven incubated eggs.
          Our book instructed us to remove the eggs from the turner three days before their arrival to allow them to orient themselves before their debut; but when Charles and Half-Pint set up half the incubator minus the egg turner, they noticed that several of the eggs had pipped already. To "pip" means that they have already cracked a small hole in their shell with their egg tooth (which is a small raised protrusion on their beak that falls off shortly after they hatch). Ducklings emerge 24-48 hours after they pip. Charles and Half-pint set a block of wood in the incubator to prevent the hatchlings from getting tangled in the two trays of unready eggs we left in. Last night at 4:30, Mary caught one really cracking its shell. An hour later the first one was born and ten minutes later another popped out with hardly any struggle. Three more emerged by 10:30pm, but the biggest disappointment of the night was when one was unable to open the shell after pipping a circle of cracks around the blunt end. The book warned against helping,  but I was really tempted to ignore the book, after all the ducks ignored the book. They are supposed to go through the struggle or according to the book they won't have enough vigor to survive. One hasn't cracked at all, but we're hoping that it is just playing by the rules and arriving later.
              I've had my own struggles this weekend,  struggles of keeping up with a lot of laundry (due to vomit and explosions on the other end...what do you expect after 48 hours of just breastmilk?) Yesterday,  the baby kept down all the milk, and even some rice and a biteful of banana. Sucess! Thank you for your prayers!!
           Half-pint allowed me to name the final duckling, so I chose Mr (or Mrs.) Peepers. I love the little peeping sounds he makes. Its funny how after all the struggle, Mr. Peeper is born precocial. This means, that despite just being born, he can walk, preen, eat, and drink right away. I can tell you from lots of experience that human babies are far from precocial.
            I really missed being able to go to church this weekend due to a sick baby, but God is still whispering into my heart despite not being able to go. He is my hiding place; He protects me from trouble and surrounds me with songs of deliverance. (Ps. 32:6-7) I think He was delighted in our delight over His creation last night. Life sometimes seems like struggle after struggle, like pile after pile of laundry. However, my thought for the day is "what if after I break through this struggle, it's easy walking for a little bit?" There may still be difficulties ahead (like surviving a big drooly dog), but this struggle could help my health and increase my vigor. That gives something to peep about.

Incubation, Puking Princesses, and Sea Monkeys at Midnight

           Half-Pint bought an incubator about a month ago; and though our first batch of old eggs failed (and oozed and gave us grief-read that story here), our female mallard began to lay fresh eggs. We dutifully began daily collecting and storing them between 40º and 60º (after carefully reading up about it). You are supposed to only store them for up to seven days before beginning incubation, so two and a half weeks ago we put them in. After six days, we carefully held them up to an altered toilet paper roll with a flashlight shining through one end (called "candling") to find fine veins and a small gray shadow in all seven eggs.  Half-pint was grinning from ear to ear for the entire day. Mrs. Duck continued to lay eggs, so we continued to gather. There were only six eggs laid in the next week, and five of them proved to be fertile (showing veins and a shadow). Still we were very excited with our possibilities. She proceeded to lay one more egg that we are yet to candle. Now comes the tricky part. We have three batches of eggs at three different stages. The first batch has continued to grow (we candled them at 13 days with the second batch...they have a much bigger shadow and nice veins), and are due to hatch around Nov. 13th. However,  it is recommended to stop turning them for the last three days (so they can get their bearings), which means we need to remove the turner (apparantly the little buggers could get tripped up in that and croak). We could turn the next two batches of eggs by hand for three days, but half-pint teared up at that suggestion because humidity and temperature is critical. You aren't supposed to disturb the incubator lid even to add water (for humidity) during those three days. This leaves me wondering if we will turn Half-pint's entire room into a sauna for three days, try introducing Paddles and Puddles to half-pint's room to finish the laying process (in a dog kennel, mind you) or recruit Charlotte to come and keep the eggs warm (she LOVES laying on eggs). I'll keep you posted on "As The Duck Waddles". We had more ducky happenings this week thanks to Mr. Blue Eye's costume.
          Our new town brought new Halloween traditions. We attended a fabulous library party on the 21st. On Halloween, the children around here go trick-or-treating on Main Street at the businesses which stay open late (till seven according to the local newspapers). It was supposed to start at 5pm, and we arrived at 6pm. Apparently,  they didn't read the newspaper because by 6:30 when the children fizzled, the businesses shut their doors. I felt sorry for the kids that showed up at 6:45pm to find no one out (Carrie had to pee at that time, so we used the public toilet at the Chamber of Commerce who also had shut their doors early, but took pitty on my dancing turtle). This brings me to our costumes. I do not buy pre-made costumes anymore. I stopped two years back when Half-pint insisted on making her own pumpkin costume from Charles' orange T-shirt. I quickly got over the fact that it wasn't perfect (Would others feel sorry for my poor child without a mom to step in and make a costume worthy of Pinterest?)  and revelled in the uniqueness of it. Store-made costumes are usually more expensive,  and I've seen how creative my kids can be when I've helped them bring their dream to life. With that said, I've also lived through the years of very young children incapable of creating their own costumes...and I do NOT judge moms that need sleep more than a few dollars spent on a costume (and some who buy on clearance for the next year or at rummage sales).  This is just what works for us. Mr. Blue Eyes donned a beard (attached to his camo hat...12 in. of plush brown fabric thanks to Joanne's for $2.99) and full camo. He held his rubber ducky to chew on for a complete Duck Dynasty ensemble. Puddles and Paddles wanted to go along, but I said no. He met up with 3 other Duck Dynasty boys, and they graciosly posed for a picture with him. Gracie asked to be Rapunzel, for which I attached strand upon strand of yarn to a yellow headband. She went to the party at the library but began puking Halloween day. She stayed locked in her tower with Charles. However, Charles came up with the brilliant idea of letting her trick-or-treat at our bedroom doors from the candy we had gotten while out. She ended up with a full bucket, and my heart brimmed with pride at our girls' generosity. Carrie went as a snapping turtle; and although I cut out her shell, she decorated it by spending two days coloring it with markers. Half-pint went as a pirate, and created an elaborate ship complete with lego people walking the plank. The ship only went to the library party though. We feared it would've shipwrecked on the sidewalk. Mary decided to dress up as "Autumn" (the season) complete with a leaf boa, and braided bun for her cardinal's nest. It was so much fun to watch them design and create!
           This past week has seen a lot of late nights, like Halloween. One of them though was thanks to Half-pint's Awana store night. The kids are awarded Awana bucks for memorizing verses, and once a month, they can purchase fabulous prizes for their hard work. Half-pint purchased a complete sea monkey kit because, "what is a farm for except animals?". After our last mishap with the duck eggs, I stayed up till midnight to help research everything we needed to know about the sea creatures. It began when she insisted on distilled water, which she insisted was crucial and found somewhere on the internet information page she had looked at (even though I found nothing on the included packaging about it). I love learning,  but I prefer not to do it at midnight. Still, the little specks that they are (they are the size of a period) still are rather interesting though, and I look forward to seeing them grow. I will keep you posted on "All My Sea Monkeys", and I promise to even include a picture or two.
              It looks like there's going to be an explosion of life here on our prairie,  even though winter is fast approaching. It should make for an interesting season. Please feel free to share your thoughts or expertise on any of these topics. I'd love to read it.

A Teensy Weensy Problem Loading Noah Ark

            When I told one of my friends about all the animals we would be moving, she laughed and told me it reminded her of Noah's ark. There have been many times that I have thought about Mrs. Noah and wondered how she maintained her calm while discussing sharing living quarters with all those animals for a year. We had our 90 lb. Weimeraner, Harley, plus our two outside cats, Sierra and Oreo. They rode with me. Let's just call my vehicle the "quiet sweet-smelling vehicle". We also have five hens plus two Mallard ducks (so far she has laid twenty-two eggs in her clutch, and is yet to begin sitting on them). They rode with my hubby. When we stopped at the gas station for a pit-stop, the brief glimpse I had of his vehicle made me extremely grateful for my car load. All the quacking and clucking (combined with the smell) would've been enough to make me nauseous.  The hens dutifully layed three eggs in transit and pecked their hearts out on the towel in their cage. Last but not least in our "ark" are my daughter's two small-mouth salamanders, Teensy and Weensy.
             It was a good hour after we started our caravan on Friday that I received a phone call from my nature lovin' child. She informed me that her two beloved salamanders had been left behind.  I was a little shocked she forgot them. Nothing makes her smile more than holding her little Teensy and Weensy. I'm not a huge fan of anything without fur or feathers, but I know how much she adores them...so I even allow canned crickets in my refrigerator (double sealed in a ziploc bag, mind you). After a couple of phone calls, the gentleman driving our truckload of boxes offered to care for them and bring them along with the rest of our stuff.  What a relief it was for my daughter to have them back this morning!
           I can't tell you how much my dear mother-in-law helped us when she rode out with us and stayed for a couple of days. It was so nice to have her there to watch the kids in a pinch and help me with driving. She made the trip so much faster for me by chatting with me most of the way. I wondered if Mrs. Noah was similarly blessed by her woman companions on the ark.
          Our seller has agreed to lease to us till we can close next week, so the movers unpacked us today. I'm so glad to have that taken care of. I will tell you more about our house in the next post, but let's just say that I'm grinning from ear to ear. It's good to be home.

The Duke

          Yesterday my five year old lost her very first pet, Duke, our lone Rhode Island Red rooster. He was beautiful and was almost fully grown. His tail feathers has just begun to grow longer with a lovely dark green to them. He had also begun to crow his trademark "cock-a-doodle-doo" first thing in the morning.
              Our next door neighbor called to apologize and tell us that their German Shepherd had seen our chickens out in the tall grass next to the road. Much to their chagrin, she began chasing and killing them. They tried calling her off,  but she had already killed several. We were saddened to find three hens and one beautiful rooster dead.  Five of our ten chickens survived and one remains MIA. My five year old hoped out-loud that her strong and fast rooster hadn't been killed, but I told her that if his hens had been threatened,  I was positive he would have charged out to fight and defend them. We found our rooster farthest from the barn as he flew into the dog and lost his life.
              Some of you may be wondering how much a little girl could love a cocky rooster...she loved him a whole lot. She picked him up and carried him around like a cherised cat. He happily laid on her chest. She spent hours picking worms and berries for him. He was the first living thing she was in charge of. 
            I've watched the two older grieve the loss of their first pets, and it always breaks my heart. I know that this is a part of life that just plain stinks, and this isn't the last time they will know loss from death. I'm glad that at the very least we can go through this together.
             My mom helps adults process their loss after losing family members,  so she has given lots of tips over the years that have really helped me with guiding our girls through this (plus I had a lot of experience as a little girl with losing pets and people). Yesterday when I gathered the chickens up, I said goodbye to them out loud. I stroked their feathers and told them my feelings that "I was sorry they died". I watched as my five and three year old did the same. When my dad died, I was afraid to touch him and that haunted me for along time afterwards. Now, it is one of the first things I do to say goodbye.  At first, my older ones said that the rooster was hurt too badly for me to pick him up, but I think it's important for our little girl that he was not left out in the open...that we "cared" for him one last time. I don't want her thinking that we deserted him for other animals to eat him, even if chickens are food. He was special to her.
           I think it's also a great idea to hold a small service for a pet. This is not our first one, so the older girls did some things that were meaningful to them like putting flowers in with their chickens. My second oldest even had all the living chickens peck the flowers as a way for the living to say goodbye to the deceased. I like to say a prayer to thank God for their part in our lives, but also to share how much we hurt and will miss them. I ask God to heal that hurt that I am feeling. I tell Him that I don't understand why, but that I trust Him. We usually sing a favorite song and say a couple scriptures. One of my favorites is the scripture that says how Job responded to loss: "the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." (Job 1:21)  We laid the hens into the hole first, so that even in death Duke could  "shield" them. Our five year old quickly pointed this out. The girls laid their flowers into the hole with them and we cried over them while sharing our favorite stories about them.
            My oldest offered to bake cupcakes to eat after the service, which models what many people do after traditional funeral services. We've had food after other animal services before. It's a comforting thing to eat something and share funny stories.
           My five year old stood with tears streaming down her face at our funeral. She was not alone. I cried right along with her and told her it'd be normal to feel sad when we saw our chickens missing from the survivors. Two of my hens were killed as well. We all gave her hugs as she sobbed about how she would miss her rooster. We know that we will have more chickens, but that there will never be another Duke. We talked about him at bedtime,  and spoke about how brave he was...how he had laid down his life for his hens...including my favorite, Charlotte.
           Hopefully, long from now, when she says goodbye to a person not only will the process feel familiar,  but she will also remember that her heart did heal after the loss of her pet. At least, we could walk this road together for her first time. I know this is just the beginning of her healing process, but I intend to be there with her along the way. Duke not only served as a great first pet, but also as a integral part in my little girl growing up and learning about a hard part of life. For that I will be forever grateful.
          What have you found to be a meaningful way to say goodbye? How have you helped or been helped to deal with loss?

Fowl Play Afoot At Farm

     It appears that I have ordered boots just in time...although we've had a barn since we moved in July, we are officially turning into a farm (in my mind). My second eldest daughter burst into our room with a huge grin on her face Saturday morning. She announced, "We just bought ten baby chicks and two mallard ducks!" She and my hubby had gone to a local farm store, and they happened to have chicks in. My second eldest delights in animals more then anything, so this was like Christmas in March. I have to admit that they are pretty cute, and we will definitely use the eggs. My hubby and daughter have been talking about chickens since before we moved to the country.  I've always been a huge animal lover as well, but I can't look at an animal the way I did as a child without seeing the potential work attached anymore. I'm slowly turning into my mom...she would call this maturity. The picture included is of me with one of the chicks I named Charlotte. When I put my arm in their pen last night, she happily perched on it. No one else was allowed up which makes me think she is the boss. (The jury is still out on whether or not this is a girl, but I think Charlie would be a great rooster name if my she turns out to be a he.) I know my girls will be happy to take care of them, but I'm less thrilled about the inevitable life-span of chickens.
        Harley was our first pet (here's his story).  Then we added two cats to our lives after we moved to the country (originally there were three--here's what happened to my sweet Giselle). Now we are adding chickens. We keep adding animals that want to eat each other. Looks like we'll need to add some insects to our pet list if we want to complete our "circle of life".
        Psalm 90:12 says, "Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom." We all need to be aware that today can be our last. We need to make it count. This is something I struggle with. I get too caught up in the piles of laundry and neglect going outside to enjoy the sunshine. There is a balance, and today I'm trying to find it. This concept of numbering your days was brought especially close to home when my husband's forty something friend had quadruple bypass this past week. That's awfully young to have something that major happen to you physically.  He's doing well considering, but he could have had a very different ending. We don't know what day will be our last.
        Today, I'm going to make time to go to a playgroup and spend a little more time with the chicks and my kids...instead of my washing machine. What will you do differently today?