Covid Journal, Day 340: Drip, Drip, Drip

34 and cloudy. We had rain showers overnight. More rain or snow or sleet predicted for today.

It's getting messy out there. The beautiful, dangerous ice is gone from the trees. The snow has melted quite a bit, but turned to ice in places where it's been packed down, like on paths and the driveway. The melting continues, however, and we hope it will be enough today to get rid of the worst of the ice. I am sad to see the beauty being turned to the mundane--dirty snow replacing the pristine white and sparkle. 

Then again, people are posting photos of flowers in bloom--crocus in my nephew's garden in Richmond, Virginia, daffodils in the Carolinas. It would be nice to see a little green again, and maybe a few of the early blossoms. But I am patient. I'd rather wait and not have them killed off by a freeze.

Larry took my camera for a walk yesterday afternoon, the dogs keeping him company. I considered going, but honestly I feel no motivation to get out in this weather. Am I getting old? I used to love to take walks in the snow, often being out for hours when I was younger. Now I am content to just look at it. My man can't stand being cooped up, as he calls it--I call it being snug and warm. So off he went, and came back with these photos. 

Apparently his first stop was the henhouse. The chickens have been literally cooped up for a week, so they were happy to see him open their trapdoor to the outside. Until they saw the snow. Larry said the birds just hovered in the opening, but none went out. I understand completely. 

Looking across the field we call "the flat" although as you can see it's not really flat, just more level than most of our land.

A drift almost always forms in this area. The snow hangs around here longer too, as this is a sheltered spot. The small trees have certainly taken a beating.

He had some happy companions. These two love it when we go out for walks. This is one our driveway.

Up on the ridge, you can just see the ice glinting on this poor bent tree.

And our old stalwart oaks, still standing though both are quite hollow in their centers. They've withstood so many storms, yet here they still are.

This is Day 340 of our Covid journey. We locked down a little earlier than some people, a little later than others. I began my count the day we decided that we'd have to hole up. Since then we've loosened up a little. We go into the grocery store now a couple times a month, have been to Wal-Mart a few times in the past year--a very few times. We shop at the thrifts when we go out, and have made a few road trips. What we haven't done is eat out, gone to any music or theater event or any other public event. We haven't made any overnight trips, and I've done no storytelling. We see only a handful of people, usually outside and for short periods of time. We've gone to only 5 or 6 doctor appointments between the two of us. 

I have to wonder, what will change for us now that the vaccine is becoming more available? I think that we won't change the way we're doing now, except that we will visit family, and maybe go to some outdoor live music events. We might make more road trips, but will probably continue to pack our own meals. Eating out will be rare, and only in open or outdoor settings. But maybe I'm wrong, and we will go back to the way we were? It's hard to imagine.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Covid Journal, Day 176: Murder Most Fowl

It's been a sunny, hot week, highs in the 80's with high humidity. No rain, although every now and then the skies clouded up. Hoping for rain this weekend.

This morning Larry found three of the new young pullets beheaded. How sad a day this is. We had 20 and all were doing so well. Now, we have to find how the murderer got into the coop, and try to figure out who he/she is. Could be a raccoon, possum, or skunk, and I hope and pray it is one of them and not a weasel or mink. The first three might be easier to catch in a trap; the last two are almost impossible.

So Larry will set a live trap this evening, and he'll spend part of today going over the coop to find any possible point of entry. It's pretty tight, but a weasel or mink can get in through a very small hole.

Another murder of the herbaceous kind was committed by deer. We planted three new fruit trees this spring, and they were doing quite well. But overnight, the deer ate them down to the trunks. I doubt any of them will survive. If you've bought any fruit trees lately, you know they're not cheap. I was so angry and disappointed. We bought two more, a pear and a peach, and we enclosed them in chicken wire cages this time. We plan to get two more, apple trees this time, and will do the same with them. That should keep the deer out.

It hasn't been all bad news here this week, however. We canned green beans and more pasta sauce, and on Thursday made 20 gallons of applesauce from our trees, with help from our son Derek. 15 gallons will go into apple butter later this fall; that part is in the freezer. The rest we canned.  I also made 12 quarts of apple pie filling and put that in the freezer.

So in addition to the peppers, green beans and other things put up earlier in the week, we've had a productive week. We planted more too--lettuce, beets after we finally got some seeds, turnips and filled in the row of peas where the seeds planted a couple weeks ago didn't come up. So we're hoping for a good late garden. The late squash and cucumbers are beginning to bear, so that's nice.

Usually by this time of the year, I am itching to go away somewhere, get a break from gardens and canning, weeds and string-trimming. But this year I don't feel that urge, surprisingly. No place seems to be more attractive than right where I am. I had considered staying at a state park for a few nights, but honestly? Home is nicer, and more private actually than a park. We've been on a few drives to find things for our booths, and that seems to be satisfying my wanderlust. At least for now.

I have been listening to the news of the fires out West, the damage from the last hurricane down South, and feel so badly for all those affected. How many thousands have been displaced in this country due to natural disasters in the past month? How terrible it must be to try to think of what to grab as you flee your home, knowing that whatever you leave behind may well be destroyed. 

And then there are the ongoing protests. While I am supportive of their cause, I feel like it's time to stop complaining and start taking steps for positive action. Destruction and anger cannot effect the change that needs to happen; only reasonable discourse and a plan to find solutions will get the results demanded. My niece-in-law, who is black, was walking with her young sons when people in a passing car hurled the N word and other insults at her. She is a teacher, a professional and a good wife and mother. I cannot imagine the hurt the incident caused her, and for what? So some sad person can feel glee at causing pain? I am angry and frustrated that this good woman and family member had to be subjected to such hate. Will our country ever find a solution? Sometimes I feel like we are making progress, and then something like this happens and it seems like we're back in the 1950's again. 

More losses this week too--a good lady in our town died from Covid after attending a wedding and apparently getting infected there, or at her church where many do not follow the guidelines. And a dear friend who has been my friend since our childhood lost her mother this week, to natural causes. No matter how old our parents, we're never ready to let them go. 

Today is my granddaughter Kate's birthday. She's become a fine woman, a teacher--we seem to have many teachers in our family. I miss seeing her, but am happy that she is well and moving along in her life as she pursues her Master's degree while working full time. How well I remember doing the same; it means little free time, but the goal is worth the price. 

So it's been a roller coaster of a week, as I still struggle through my own sadness that visits me every year on the anniversary of my late son's birthday. But there is still much to be happy about, to laugh about, to see the good in, too. I keep my eyes and my mind on that, and my heart follows their lead.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Chick! Chick! Chick! Chicken Lore!

Who would think chickens would have so many superstitions and so much folklore attached to them? But then of course they would. Humans have been keeping chickens for centuries, valuing eggs, meat, feathers and the propensity of chickens to eat bugs and weed seeds.

Exactly how long has our relationship with the fair fowl existed? Wikipedia says that "Genetic studies have pointed to multiple maternal origins in South Asia, Southeast Asia, and East Asia,[4] but with the clade found in the Americas, Europe, the Middle East and Africa originating in the Indian subcontinent. From ancient India, the domesticated chicken spread to Lydia in western Asia Minor, and to Greece by the 5th century BC.[5] Fowl had been known in Egypt since the mid-15th century BC, with the "bird that gives birth every day" having come to Egypt from the land between Syria and Shinar, Babylonia, according to the annals of Thutmose III." (from wikipedia)

According to some research there are over 19 billion chickens in the world today, surely enough to take over the world if they had a mind. Fortunately, chickens have long been said to have a tiny mind--think Chicken Little--and perhaps that is just as well for the rest of us. (The story of Chicken Little was originally called Henny Penny, interestingly enough.)

1916 children's book illustration for Henny Penny. Artist unknown.

Chickens were once regarded as sacred animals, and to mistreat them could bring disaster, as this story notes:

"Cicero wrote about the sacred-chicken-related folly of Publius Claudius Pulcher in 249 B.C. Seeking approval to launch a surprise naval strike he consulted the sacred chickens aboard his ships. The chickens refused to eat, an ill omen for the upcoming battle. Frustrated, he announced, “If they will not eat, let them drink,” and had the birds thrown overboard. His fleet suffered near annihilation during the battle of Drepanium. After returning home from the humiliating defeat, Pulcher was subsequently convicted or exiled and died soon after. Several other ominous portents of the sacred chickens came true, including the Manicus’s defeat by the Numantines in 137 BC and the death of Tiberius Gracchus." From the blog Superstition Saturday.
.
Even today in Key West, chickens are a protected species and it is against the law to kill them, although not illegal to eat them, which seems an odd conundrum.

A rooster roams free near a restaurant where we were eating during a trip to Key West in 2016.

In West Virginia, chickens--roosters in particular--can be weather prognosticators. People say that if a rooster crows before midnight, his head will be wet by morning. If the rooster keeps crowing all day, there will be a hard rain within 12 hours.

Other Appalachian chicken sayings:

It's bad luck to set an even number of eggs.

Thunder will kill baby chicks that are just about to hatch.

To break a setting hen, tie a red ribbon around her neck, with a bow in front on her breast.

If hawks get in your chickens, place a flat rock in your fire grate. the hawks will leave.

If chickens pick their feathers after a rain, it will soon rain again.

A rooster crowing a daybreak will scare off evil spirits and ghosts.

It is unlucky to set a hen in August.

A hen that stands before you and flaps her wings is the sign that good news is on the way.

If you put iodine in the chicks drinking water they won't peck each other.

Thunder will cause a hen to stop laying.

Pennsylvania Dutch lore says that chickens squawking and fluttering about at night means that there will soon be a death in the famiyly. (I am most relieved to report that this is apparently not true of West Virginia chickens, as mine often carry on at night to the point that we go down to check on them, only to find them all looking at us like, "What?" No family deaths ensued after these ruckuses.)

An interesting belief from England says that if a hen lays an egg without a shell, she has been impregnated by the wind, and the egg is called a "wind egg." I have always heard that such eggs (they do happen sometimes, just the egg encased in a membrane with no shell) are laid by hens getting near the end of their laying years.


Some other chicken beliefs from around the world:

If you burn eggshells, the hens will not lay. Which is exactly opposite the practice of many West Virginians who bake the shells and feed them back to the chickens so that they will lay better and their shells will be hard.

In England, pieces of pancake are tossed to chickens and other poultry on Shrove Tuesday. If the rooster eats the pancakes without calling the hens, it's a sign of a poor harvest that year, but if he calls the hens, a good harvest can be expected.

In old Persia, people believed that setting a hen on a cloudy day will cause all her chicks to be black. But if you set her at dark, all the chicks will be pullets.

In France, a piece of iron is put into a setting hen's nest to protect her and her future chicks from lightning.

In Devonshire, England the following was a cure for snakebite: Kill a chicken and put the affected area immediately into the chicken's stomache cavity. Leave it there until the chicken's flash is cold. If the chicken's flesh turns dark, it was a sign that the flesh had absorbed the poison and the person would recover. If the chicken's flesh remained its natural color, it was bad luck for the victim, who probably would not survive the ordeal.

For more chicken history and lore, check out the following:

Smithsonian Magazine: How the Chicken Conquered the World.

Anomaly Info: Facts and Myths: Chickens.

The Cunning Wife: Magical Animls in European Folktales and Lore

Folklore Thursday: Origins of Breaking the Wishbone

Granny Sue's News and Reviews: The Golden Fruit

Granny Sue's News and Reviews: Chicken Riddles


And then there are chicken folktales! Here are ten from all over the world:

The Story of Chicken and Elephant:  from South Sudan

Chicken at the Well: from Africa

Half-Chicken: from Mexico

The Miraculous Hen: from Russia

Mrs. Chory's Chickens: from America

The Hawk and the Hen: from the Philippines

The Hen and Her Chicks: from India

Black Snake and the Eggs: from Africa

The Little Red Hen: from England

The Farmer and the Jackal: from India

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

The Tragic Tale of Reginald the Rejected Rooster

He is a lover at heart, a handsome fella with a fine comb, long gold neck feathers, a black and white coat and a tail that...well, he has no tail, and here is why.

But let me start at the beginning. We told a neighbor we'd like to have a rooster. The neighbor's wife has an incubator and would hatch eggs for us, but without a rooster our hens' eggs are infertile. So one morning we got up to see a cage with a rooster in it by our sidewalk. We were on our way to appointments and had no time to deal with him then, so we set the cage by the chicken yard so our girls could get acquainted with their new beau.

I told the story of what happened in this blog post. It was ugly, it really was. Our girls behaved shamefully, ganging up and bullying the poor rooster to an inch of his life. He was cowering in a corner of the chicken yard, terrified to venture out and face the wrath and violence of our usually gentle hens. They pulled out every one of his tail feathers. Larry took pity on the old boy and put him outside of the pen.

Our thinking was that surely after a few weeks the hens would get used to Reginald strutting around and not mind if he came back into the yard. A few of the girls even escaped the pen and went pecking and scratching around with their former sworn enemy. Good, we thought, all we need to do is catch him and put him in the coop and all would be calm and peaceful. His tail feathers were even starting  to grow back, and he began to crow. He has a beautiful, clear voice.

Larry's knee surgery intervened and Reginald continued to roam free, joined by the occasional renegade hen. His tail feathers were even beginning to grow back. By this time I was caring for the chickens and was bumfuzzled as to how the hens were getting out. I went around their ramshackle pen carefully but found no hole that seemed big enough for a chicken to slip through.

Then yesterday evening two hens were out. I've trained them to come when they hear me rattling sunflower seeds in a bucket so the two escapees came along tamely enough and were soon back in the chicken yard pecking at the scraps I'd brought with the other hens. Reginald seemed anxious to get inside and enjoy the treats too, so I baited him in with some sunflower seeds. Yes! He was now penned up, and all would be well, right?

Wrong! The girls flew at him in a pack, getting him into the corner and attacking furiously. I managed to end the melee by tossing more seeds at them--hens think with their stomachs like most animals (including a lot of humans). The poor Man of the House trotted up and down the fenceline, looking for a way to escape, and the hens for once were paying no mind to him. I felt sure I had all possible escape routes fixed...but suddenly he slipped through a hole that seemed impossibly small.

So Reginald the Rejected now roams free again, and I suppose we will have to send him back to his former home because it's clear that what we have is a nunnery. But I am thankful to him for his service, because without him I don't know if I would ever have found that hole.

Epilogue:

Of course once he was free again, Reginald began to crow. I crowed back, as I have always done with our roosters. He looked around, puzzled, and crowed again. I walked very close to him and crowed as loud as I could. The poor guy took off like he'd lit in a hot skillet, running over the hill and peeking back over his shoulder every now and then. I bet he thought I was the biggest oddest-looking rooster he'd ever seen.

He hasn't made another peep since.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Serendipidity, or West Virginia is Just One Small Town

Last year we bought some young hens from the nicest couple in a neighboring county. We had the nicest visit with them, watching the young fawn they'd rescued from a ditch after its mother had been killed on the highway, looking at their giant pig and just enjoying their company. A few weeks later I called them to let them know when the hens laid their first eggs, and my husband and I talked about stopping up to see them again this spring.

Yesterday we were in an antique mall 50 miles from here, and in conversation with the owner he mentioned how much he liked the work we do with furniture. I was puzzled as I didn't think I knew him, and he confirmed that.

"No, you don't know me, but I saw some photos of your stuff on <another vendor's> Facebook, so I've been following you and just love your work!"

What a nice compliment that was. I asked his name, and when he told me, it rang a bell.

"Do you have relatives in Wirt County?" I asked.

Why yes he did. And his parents were those same people we'd got the chickens from. Sadly, his father passed away last summer and I am sad to not get to see him again. He was one special person.

But what a small town this state is.

You can read my post about our visit here.



Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

New Residents

The girls are settling in nicely. There are 12 of them, Golden Comets is the breed, and these are about 4 months old--ready to start laying in a few weeks.

We gave away our old (in every sense of the word) hens before we left for England. They were laying only a few eggs a day, so our eggs were costing us a pretty penny. I can't bring myself to dress out birds we've had for a long time. It just doesn't seem fair. So we give them away when they get past their laying prime. The last ones went to a family who just wanted to have some chickens running around, and to teach their children to be responsible for animals. Egg production wasn't a concern for them. The ones before that went to a young man who planned to gather what eggs the girls were still laying, and start a FFA flock by hatching the chicks. His plan worked. Now he is in the military and I wonder if he even remembers getting those hens.

We found these on the local radion Swap& Shop show, a show Larry listens to religiously. Well, I do too, because it's so entertaining. You never know what people want or want to sell. Here's how our hens came up on the air:

"Hello? Hello? Is Swap & Shop on this morning?"

"Yes, it is, buddy, you're on the air right now."

"Oh. Well, I didn't know cuz I don't have no radio. But I got 12 chickens I want to sell. These are all hens, Golden Comets, and they're about 4 months old. We got 'em in September and raised 'em ourselves. Well, we got 50, but I sold 12 so now I have 37. Lost one you know. I was gonna add on to my henhouse but then I got sick and had to go to the hospital so this is just too many hens. So I want to sell 12 of them."

"Okay, buddy, give me your number and we got you covered."

So I called. At $7.00 a head, these were a good deal. Baby chicks cost about $3.00 each; add in the cost of feed for 4 months and you can see what I mean, plus all the time in caring for them--keeping them inside under a light, bedding, etc.

The hens were about 45 minutes from us, in a beautiful country setting in West Virginia's smallest (and one of the least populated) counties, Wirt. When we drove up, this is what greeted us:

Notice what the sign says? "Beware of the Dog."

Joe and his wife Susie found this little doe beside her mother, who was lying dead in a ditch by the road. They brought her home and raised her inside, putting a diaper on her. They know that she'll leave one day, or might get shot during deer season, but as Joe said, "You can't just leave a little thing crying like that. She come right to us."

Larry loved her, and so did I! I even got to pet her a little bit. What a lucky little deer.

So anyway, now the hens are home. Larry spent a very busy day getting the coop ready for them. He'd been planning to get it cleaned out this winter and ready for new chicks in the spring, so his schedule got bumped up a bit. He's been having a blast with them, going down to check on them often, talking to them, and making sure all is well. He says he'd forgotten how much he enjoyed having chickens.

I am glad to have them again too. I have had chickens for most of 45 years of my life. I forget to buy eggs. I miss seeing them pecking around their yard, and I miss the contented clucking in the coop.

A rooster? Maybe. I'm not sure though. I like hearing a rooster crow, but maybe we can manage without. We'll see.

And for your listening pleasure: Ain't Nobody Here But Us Chickens. Enjoy!

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

The Golden Fruit

A riddle for you: In a marble hall white as milk, lined with skin as soft as silk. Within a fountain crystal-clear, a golden apple doth appear. No doors there are to this stronghold, yet thieves break in to steal its gold. And another: A box without hinges, key, or lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid.

It’s an egg, of course! 

When I was a young girl I wanted to raise chickens so I

ordered 500 baby chickens from a catalog. They came

 and in three days they all died. I was disappointed 

but determined. I ordered 500 more baby chicks and 

would you believe, they all died within 3 days too? 






I gave up on raising chickens but I never did figure out

 what I was doing wrong. I was pretty sure though that

I was either planting them too deep or too close together.
I’m pulling your leg with that old joke--I have kept chickens for fresh eggs since I was about



nineteen years old. It seems like there has always been a flock in my life. A contented \

clucking in the chicken pen, delighted squawking when an egg has been laid, and yes, even 

the noise of a rooster indicate that all is as it should be in life. 


My first chickens were white Leghorns that we bought for a dollar each. They had been 



cage chickens sold when they were past their peak laying time (these were about 18 months
old) and they had no idea of how to roost, scratch or do any other chicken-y kind of thing. 

Their claws were so long they curled back and their combs were huge and floppy. After a 

few weeks in their new home they learned to scratch in the dirt, to nest in boxes and their 

claws quickly wore off to a more reasonable length. They laid lots of eggs, defying the logic

of the commercial breeders that they were not economical to keep.


It wasn’t long before I wanted brown-egg hens, so we added big plump Rhode Island Reds 



that did not lay as well, ate a lot more but were calm and gentle, something that could not

be said for the Leghorns. As years passed we raised many other varieties—Buff Orpingtons, 

Araucanas, Americaunas, Domineckers, Silver-laced Wyandottes, White Rocks, Golden 

Comets and others. I love getting different color eggs; some years our egg basket would be 

filled with white, buff, blue, green, brown, tan and even lightly speckled eggs. Who needs 

to dye eggs at Easter when they come like that straight from the hens?


I have heard many superstitions about eggs and chickens over



the years. For example, did you know that some people will put an egg shell in their
coffee grounds when the coffee is perking? They claim the coffee tastes better
that way. Others will bury egg shells next to certain plants in their gardens
to provide more calcium for the growing vegetables. One lady told me that
witches will use empty egg shells for boats and go sailing around in them, so I
should always break a hole in an egg shell in the shape of a cross, or crush
the shell, to prevent that from happening. 
Finding a double yolk egg means either someone you know is getting
married soon or will be having twins.  It
might also be interpreted as a sign of good luck coming your way, or financial
improvement in your life. An egg with no yolk at all is very bad, however—a
certain bringer of bad luck.



This year we'll be getting baby chicks again, I

 think. Our hens are three or four years old 

and slowing down. What kind will we get? I'm
hoping for some Aracaunas, and maybe a few

Barred Rocks, and some Golden Comets. 

We'll see!













For more chicken riddles, check out this older blog post!

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed 
without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Drum(stick) Roll: The Chicken Riddles Answers

So, did you get the answers? Here's one more:

And here are the answers to yesterday's riddles, in order. To see the questions, check out yesterday's post.

1.the other half

2.Hennessee

2.Chickago

4. the outside

5. prove to the possum it could be done

6. to the other side  

7. to lay it on the line

8. it was the chicken’s day off

9. they’d break if they dropped them

10. Thanksgiving!

Now, let's go have some eggs for breakfast--or lunch--or dinner--or even dessert (there's always custard!).


Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Just for Fun: Chickens Riddles

Chickens are one of my favorite animals. I’ve had a flock for most of the past 45 years.What I like best about them is that, unlike most animals, you can use their products without hurting the chicken. My hens tend to lead long, safe lives. We like brown-egg hens best, and especially the black-and-white Barred Rocks, or Domineckers, as they’re called around here. There's just something about the contented clucking, the excited squawking after an egg is laid, the rooster's crow first thing in the morning that makes a place feel more like a home.

So here you go: can you solve these riddles? Answers tomorrow!

1. What looks just like half a chicken?
2. Where do hens come from?
3. Where do chicks come from?
4. Which side of a chicken has the most feathers?
5. Why did the chicken cross the road?
6. What do you get if you cross a road with a chicken?
7. Why did the chicken go halfway across the road?
8. Why did the turkey cross the road?
9. Why do hens lay eggs?
10. What’s a chicken’s favorite holiday?

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Weird, Wacky News from West Virginia

It's been an odd week in West Virginia. The rain has been torrential at times, coming straight down in sheets and overflowing creeks in no time. But the weather hasn't been the strangest thing this week. Consider the local news:

from amazon.com

First, a bank robbery in our small burg. This caused schools in the area to be on lockdown, closed at least one of the main routes into town, and caused my eye appointment--my first in 20 years--to be rescheduled. The robber is still at large, schools are on lockdown again today, and there was a possible sighting of the suspect a few miles from the robbery this morning. The man who is suspected of the robbery is also wanted for the murder of the one-year-old daughter of his girlfriend about 50 miles away from here. I hope he is apprehended, and soon.

from cafepress.com

Second was this news report this morning about an accident on Interstate 79 not far from Charleston, WV, and about 70 miles from my home. I am trying to imagine the scenario--chickens and ammo scattered everywhere. Armed chickens making a break for freedom? Or, as my friend Judi said on Facebook, pullets with bullets? It creates some strange mental images. Sadly, not all of the chickens made it, and a dog that probably caused the wreck by trying too jump out of a window also did not survive. After reading the news report, however, I am very glad this man was stopped because he seemed to be up to no good. "Improvised explosive device"? AK47? Doesn't bode well, does it? He'll have some explaining to do. This whole thing reminded me of the guy with 500 chickens in his van that I wrote about some years ago.

And then there was the conversation I overheard between two guys waiting outside the Day Report center. I guess this is a place where people on parole have to check in? I was headed to the Downtowner for lunch but slowed up when I heard one of the men mention opera. That made me curious! All I heard was this: "I knew something was wrong when she started talking about opera. I raised that girl on country music and bluegrass. Then when we were huntin' she started talking about opera." 

Sounds like the perfect beginning to a country song, doesn't it? I started right in on it when someone suggested the idea on Facebook, and here is what I have so far:

We was headin' to the woods one rainy fall day
when my woman turned to me and I heard my woman say
Well I know you like your guns and your banjo and your Tonya
but as for me, well honey, I love the opera!

She's got her cowboy boots and her 30-30 rifle, 
she looks real fine when she's carryin' my duffle.
 But I can't stand it when she opens her choppers, 
and she starts singin' that classical opera!

Friends suggested adding verses about how she's redone the house in chintz and pink florals, towels with embroidery and fine corduroy, bought furniture from Ikea, and gotten above her raisin'. So, anyone want to write a verse or two for this sure-to-be-a-classic country song?

All of the above has made my sick days not boring, although some of it is worrying and saddening. I'd blame it on Dog Days but honestly, I think the finger needs to be pointed at humankind and the troubles our kind get into.

Anything exciting or strange to report from your neck of the woods? Surely West Virginia isn't the only place with strange goings-on these days.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Abundance in the Gardens, Abundance in Storytelling

 The gardens are booming right now. The new hens are already laying and apples, peaches and grapes are hanging heavy. ready to ripen in a few weeks. It feels like the garden of Eden here right now, with fresh fruit and vegetables there for the picking, flowers in bloom and beautiful, clear, dry weather for a change.

This is a fresh load of tomatoes picked by Larry this morning. Lots of pink ones in with the reds and yellows. I think we only planted 4 pink tomato plants, but they are sure doing well.

Today is salsa-making day. I have a few hours to spare from working on stories to do the salsa and make some dill pickles--the cucumbers are coming in with a vengeance now. The old vines revived when the weather cooled and the second planting is beginning to bear. Always, of course, the gardens peak when I will not be here to process the bounty. Such is life.

We eat tomatoes three meals a day at this time of year, and in between meals too. Sliced for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch, sliced for dinner and eaten whole in between. Such richness!

This morning I prepared a country breakfast, complete with fried potatoes, bacon, eggs, tomatoes and fried apples. The apples were amazing. These were some golden delicious that had been around so long the skins were wrinkled--but they were still sound. I cored and sliced them, leaving the skins on. Then I heated oil in my cast iron skillet, added the apples and stirred them quickly to prevent them from sticking to the pan (that's important--hot oil and stirring to coat the apples with the oil). I let them cook a while, then added cinnamon, honey and vanilla. My oh my. I've never added vanilla before but you can bet I will always do so now. They are delicious.

The chickens are laying those little pullet eggs; they're small and dense with deep yellow yolks. I missed our good eggs and was impatient for these new hens to start laying. They obliged me by starting a full month before I was expecting them to. Good girls!

Back to the kitchen with me. Tomatoes are sitting in hot water so I can peel the skins and make salsa. Then I'll take a while to work on stories for the Inland Waterways Festival in Marietta, Ohio tomorrow, and then I'll start a batch of pickles. While those are sitting in salty ice water, I'll be packing for next week's trip to Elkins, WV to teach Appalachian storytelling for the Augusta Heritage Series. This will be a full, fun day--especially if my cousin Les in England calls and we can talk about my trip to England in September.


Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

A Rough Night

There was hell-raising in the henhouse last night. The kind that brings us bolt upright in the bed and groping for flashlights, shoes and a gun.

It had been a strange night anyway. Clyde, our male cat, jumped up on the bed earlier and meowed continuously as he walked all over us. Clyde never does this; he's an outside boy and rarely comes in at night. And he despises being petted usually. Last night he wanted stroked, he wanted scratched, he wanted to curl up right against me. And because his behavior was so unusual I let him. I am not a pets-in-the-bed person; it disturbs my sleep and I wake up sore and cramped. But this was an unusual situation.

It was just a little while later that the ruckus in the coop began. Larry jumped up, grabbed a light and his shoes and headed down the hill to investigate. Nothing. There were two hens out in the chicken yard because he had not closed up the coop as he usually does. But other than that there was nothing out of the ordinary--except for two eyes up in a tree, watching him. The birds were highly disturbed, however, so something was going on. He put the two hens in the coop and closed it up tight.

An hour later, another racket arose. Hens sqawking, flapping, the rooster crowing repeatedly. If you have chickens you know the kind of noise I mean. Then there was one long, drawn-out wail from a hen, a sound I've come to recognize as "I'm being dragged over the hill, help! Help!" Once again Larry took off, this time taking the .22. And once again, nothing. All hens accounted for. But they were upset and chattering like crazy.

We tried to settle down to sleep again; it was 4:00am after all. Both cats jumped up on the bed. Both are supposed to be outside, you know, but Charlie in particular doesn't recognize my ruling in this matter. They curled up against me, leaving me no leg room and no possibility of changing positions. The rest of the night was not restful but at least the hens were quiet.

So what happened down there in the coop? I think it might have been a raccoon coming for a late night snack. We've had some hanging around because of the corn and perhaps they thought a side of chicken would be tasty. We may never know, but one thing is certain--the coop will be secured tonight.

And the cats will be outside and the doors closed. This old lady needs her sleep.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Bye Bye Old Chickens

The girls are gone, and we shall be eggless for a few months, until the new flock begins to lay. It's always a sad day when the old flock has to go because they've been faithful layers for years by the time they're ready for "retirement."

I am happy about their new home. They will be part of a young man's FFA project. He figures he;ll get enough eggs from them (with the help of his lonely rooster) to start a small flock. The hens were still laying a couple eggs a day--not enough to justify their feed as layers, but for his project, enough to suit his needs.

So now Larry has another project on his list: clean out the henhouse again and get it set up for the new flock. They're growing fast and need to be moved outside soon because the box we have them in, which is about 3' x 6' and 2' tall, is getting too small for 21 growing birds.

It's funny--I only wanted a dozen layers, but bought 15 chicks to cover any that might not survive. All 15 are still kicking. Then our neighbor brought us 6 more to replace one of our hens killed by his dog (that's a good neighbor) so we've ended up with 21 healthy birds. I am hoping we'll have one rooster in the flock-since our died (old age) last fall I have missed hearing him crow in the mornings.

Copyright 2012 Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

New Growth

The weather might still be wintry, but a few things are starting to grow. Most years, I already have potatoes, onions, peas, carrots, beets, spinach and all manner of other seeds in the ground, but this year my instincts have told me to hold off, and for once I listened.

It's the same every year. I chomp at the bit to get things planted because I can't wait for the first taste of lettuce, onions and other early crops. Most years it comes off well; we get super-early veggies and a jump on the season. A few years ago, I even planted green beans 6 weeks before the last frost date and the gamble paid off with beans ready by Father's Day, unheard of in our region.

But this year I've been content to wait. Maybe it's because I'm so busy with other projects but that seems unlikely since I'm always busy with projects, and this year is no busier than any other. I think it's just that inner gardener who is telling me it's not time yet. So the gardens remain muddy and unplowed, the seeds safe in their packets.

Except for a few. About 2 weeks ago I convinced Larry to get a lettuce bed ready, and we planted Black-Seeded Simpson lettuce and Cherry Belle radishes. The seeds are already up, protected by a wood and glass frame from the daily sprinkle of snow we seem to be getting this month.

It's heartening to see these wisps of green under the glass. It's enough to keep me content to continue waiting for the weather to settle and the ground to dry.

What else is growing? Those chicks! We have 21 of all different kinds and they are getting their feathers

and testing their flying abilities in their plywood home. And making a lot of dust too. I don't remember the other chicks we've raised being so dusty.

We'll have to just deal with it another two weeks to be sure they're mature enough to be put into a brooder out in the chicken house.  I am liking all the colors in this flock. I can't tell you exactly what kinds we have because unfortunately the feed store guys were unclear themselves. I do know we have some Americaunas, some White Stars, and some Partridge Rocks but other than that, I'm clueless. I was disappointed not to find any of the Silver Spangled or the Barred Rocks, but I think these will be fine.


The older chickens, sadly, will have to go. They've been laying just 2 eggs a day for the past 2 months. I'm patient with them during winter when their laying slacks off but now they should be pouring out eggs. So if they're reading this, they know they better get to work. But more likely is that we'll be giving them away in the next week or so and get the coop ready for this new flock. That means no fresh eggs for several months and that makes me unhappy--but not as unhappy as buying eggs AND laying mash does.

Those of you further south have probably already got your gardens in, and I'd say we're green with envy up here--but so far, we're really still kind of brown.

Copyright 2012 Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

The Baby Chicks Are Here!

We picked up our baby chicks today. Some years I order them, but this year I decided to see what the feedstores might bring in, and also see if it's less expensive to buy them locally.

I was well pleased with the variety of chicks available today. White Rhode Islands, Buff Orpingtons, Americaunas (these lay the blue and green eggs), partridge rocks, and a few other kinds were available. I picked an assortment of kinds, 15 babies in all. They are a quiet lot, and seem to be happy in their new home.

Larry originally put a big heat lamp on them which is why the photos look red. I thought we were going to end up with chicken nuggets because it was just too hot, so changed it out for a 60-watt bulb and that seems to provide sufficient heat.

We learned a trick a few years ago: we make a box for them without a bottom, and put down a plastic dropcloth under the box. Then when their bedding needs to be changed, we just pick up the plastic and take it to the woods or the garden to dump. So much neater and easier than trying to clean the bottom of a box.

These little ones are supposedly all pullets. Our old girls will be given away when the young ones start to lay. I find it not at all worth the trouble to dress them out, and usually someone takes them and keeps them to lay for a few more years, which is fine by me. After five years, though, their production is really poor and it's not cost-effective to keep them in my book.

The cats are intensely interested, so we've got the babies under a good security system. The cats usually lose interest in a couple days, which is a relief. I, however, will probably spend a lot of time every day just watching the chicks peck around and sleep. There is something restful about it, and I can dream of them being big girls out in the coop and tending to the business of providing our breakfast.

Copyright 2012 Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

A December to Remember: Beat the Blues and Another Winner

Time for another giveaway! I got overwhelmed with Christmas so I'm a little behind--again. Remember, in those dark mists of time before red and green overtook us? Before we get into that one, though, here's a way to beat the winter blues:

"Blue on Blue" this time around! This giveaway includes a blue gingham handmade apron, 2 pretty handmade (but not perfect) doilies, 2 hand-crocheted hotpads,

a pepper grinder with a blue farm scene, cobalt votive in a silver holder (not a great item believe me but it's cute), a Japan-made lusterware creamer in pearly blue with a soft orange interior, a blue willow patter trinket box, two handmade navy blue napkins,

 and a vintage Totes "rainproof" scarf that is big enough to be an awesome table cover.

To get in the drawing, comment on any post this month and become a follower of this blog. If you win, please email me at susannaholstein@yahoo.com with your mailing address, and it sure would be nice if your wrote a post on your blog about your winnings with a link back to me too :) I will be drawing for this one on December 31st, to end the year on a happy note! So continue to comment because each time you do I add your name again to the drawing.

It has been fun to do these giveaways. I will be doing one or two more in January so stay tuned!

This is the "Chicken" giveaway, remember?

And the winner is: Carolyn!

Carolyn, please send me your snail mail address and I'll mail this out to ASAP. Congratulations!