*BIG SIGH OF RELIEF*
Photos have been recovered. A debrief of Easter 2013 is coming. But, for now, a glimpse at the girls’ favorite activity: Egg Collection. You can imagine their excitement on Easter morning given this fact. Though they enjoy it daily thanks to Bunty, Nemo, Edwina, Dora and Ginger. I’m still pinching myself that I get to raise my daughters with a backyard flock of chickens. Too. Much. Fun.
Except literally. Snow dwelling poultry.
We’re raising some hardy Vermont hens. And enjoying the snow quite a bit ourselves. We turned over the house today. Auntie Kimmy departed and my BFF since elementary school and her family are arriving tonight. I hope everyone is having a balanced week of rest and play to cap off 2012 like us Carts.
If you follow me on Instagram, it comes as no surprise when I say that I am a wee bit obsessed with our daily haul of farm fresh eggs. They’re just so pretty! And the blue/green ones really are so very special. As you saw in this post, I’ve been turning them into ornaments for our household and as gifts for family and friends.
While most people probably do blown eggs for Easter, I thought it was worth walking you through the process in case you wanted to make some unique ornaments this holiday.
MATERIALS:
Eggs
Needle or teeny tiny drill bit
Bulb syringe (super cheap at any drug store)
Unfolded paper clip
I used fishing line, super glue, and some sequins to then turn the blown eggs into ornaments
DIRECTIONS:
1. Start by washing your eggs in soap and warm water – especially if you want to cook with the yolks.
2. Stick a hole in the top and bottom of your egg using a large needle or tiny drill bit. Eggs are surprisingly sturdy, so don’t be afraid to really puncture the shell.
You’ll want to make the hole on the bottom of the egg slightly larger, so use the drill bit to widen that hole.
3. You’ll want to break up the yolk inside the egg, as that will make it easier to blow out. I unfolded a paper clip and swirled it inside the eggs to puncture the yolk.
4. Place the bulb syringe on the hole at the top of the egg and squeeze to blow the egg “guts” out of the bottom hole of the shell. It should come out relatively easily, if not, widen the hole on the bottom of the egg.
5. Once the eggs are blown out, run warm water through the holes to rinse away any excess yolk. I then put them in the microwave for 5-10 seconds to dry the shells. BE CAREFUL! They’ll get hot very quickly!
6. To turn them into ornaments, I cut the fishing line, doubled it over and threaded a sequin onto both threads. I then tied a knot at the base and fed that knot through the hole at the top of the egg. I squeezed a spot of super glue around the hole to then hold the knot inside the egg and the sequin at the top of the egg/base of the fishing line.
To package them as gifts, we reused old egg cartons and Sunny decorated them with sequins.
Voila! Unique, handmade holiday gift!
Emilio has met his maker.
James and our friend Josh did the honors yesterday afternoon. It was a team effort and learning experience. It was done with great respect, which I admire deeply in both James and Josh. Their biggest concern was that the rooster suffer as little as possible. To anyone interested in how they handled the situation and what James learned from the process, just send me an email and I’m sure James would be happy to talk with you about it.
Sunny (nor I) observed the process, although Addison did see Emilio right before, and took a great interest in seeing him after. At that point he was in our fridge, looking exactly like a chicken you’d buy off the shelf of a grocery store. As James showed her the processed chicken, he said:
Emilio lived a really great life with us here on the farm. He got to run around wherever he wanted. And he protected our hens. He got to eat bugs and worms and help turn our compost. He had so much fun living on our farm, but after he hurt you, sweetie, we couldn’t risk that happening again. So now he is going to feed our family, and that is a pretty amazing thing that he gets to do for us. Thank you, Emilio.
I have to admit, I felt pride welling up inside me as I observed this life lesson happening not just for my three-year old, but for myself.
A little piece of him is now in our home, as I asked James to save some of his beautiful tail feathers. As silly as it may sound, this feels like a momentous occasion for life on Cartwheel Farm. Tonight we’ll dine on Coq au Vin, in Emilio’s honor.
What a bucolic scene. Our daughters playing in the backyard while the flock of chickens skitters about at their feet. So country. So Vermont.
That is until the fucking rooster decides to go ape shit and attack our three-year old. Spurs out. Full on cockerel fight style. See this image for a vision of what he looked like when he went after her.
Not okay.
Then that shit is not so bucolic and the Mama Bear in me comes out in full force. Emilio has sealed his fate, my friends. We will be feasting on true free range, organic, backyard chicken next week. I just cannot put my children at risk for the sake of a rooster. While he has been a beautiful addition to the farm, and has helped herd the hens away from some circling hawks, this aggression cannot stand. It’s why I didn’t want a rooster from the start, and paid a whopping $3 insurance to guarantee a set of pullets (female chicks) – but, clearly the insurance was not full proof, and despite my hopes for a docile rooster (an oxymoron, I know), it appears that animal nature is just that, animal nature.
And so, a tasty chicken dinner is on the horizon.
Sunny is fine. She has a small puncture mark in her right arm from where she was nicked with a spur, but is otherwise a-okay. James intervened immediately. He was standing right there. Emilio was responding to Sunny’s interest in trying to pet him, as she has done with all the chickens since they arrived in June. But he’s getting older, more mature, and his rooster-nature took over and instead of just squabbling away from her, he responded. And aggressively.
We will slaughter him as humanely as possible. And we will be thankful for the meal that he will provide our family. Sunny has already informed us that he will be delicious. I can’t get over what a balanced, healthy view she has of the food chain at such a young age.
And on a more positive note, we are now collecting multiple eggs a day from our flock. And it is magnificent. We found our first blue egg this morning. And, yes, it is just as cool as it sounds.
OH MY GOD! STOP! STOP IT DON’T STOP IT! This weekend, THIS happened:
Snow AND our first farm fresh egg. I nearly died when James set the egg on the table. I couldn’t control my reaction. It was completely involuntary. The screaming and the jumping and the OH MY GOD! WE’RE IN PRODUCTION!!!
We then got a second egg on Sunday. This shit’s for real, y’all. Blows my mind. The eggs are itty bitty and adorable right now. And I am dying to see the blue/green eggs that will come from our Ameraucanas. I am living a dream come true and that is so cheesy and ridiculous, but truly, I cannot believe how much joy these warm brown eggs brought to our home this weekend. That, and the fact that the dogs are living in harmony with the flock. We’re getting ‘rul zen at Cartwheel Farm.
It was a jam packed, holiday-bonanza this weekend. And I was reminded yet again why I love where we live so dearly. Williamstown is stupidly adorable. And I am just so grateful to be able to raise my daughters in a town with so much love and spirit and family-friendliness.
We kicked things off Friday night by cutting down our Christmas tree at the farm down the street. While Sunny hovered at a safe distance from the tree as James sawed, Kaki was right up in the action, desperate to help her daddy. The girls could not be more different, and it’s wild to be reminded of that reality so frequently.
MAMA! The tree is going to fall and Courtland is going to be squished. Tell her to move! MOMMY! The tree is going to hurt her!
Ah, the ever cautious first born juxtaposed against our dare-devil DANGER BABY!
We decorated like mad on Friday night. And Sunny would stop every five minutes or so to declare, “We’re decorating our Christmas tree! Isn’t this fun?!” Indeed it was. And I’ll have more pix of the tree, the house, and the tree skirt I made out of an old family quilt in the coming days.
On Saturday morning, Sunny dressed in her now signature “Christmas Elf” style and we headed into town for some holiday shopping and ginger bread house making at a local restaurant. We arrived early to claim our spot and candy, and shared some sweet (literally) Mother/Daughter time. The house is now proudly on display chez Cart.
We then trekked further north to visit the family who sold us Cartwheel Farm. We got a chance to see their new diggs and to shop Jackie’s pottery sale. She is a talented ceramicist and I will be running a full post (and giveaway) of her work later this week – so do be on the look out for that! We now have our own collection of her miniature clay houses that I find so endearing and lovely. You may be lucky enough to win a set, too. Better pictures forthcoming…
We then flew back down into Williamstown to catch the Reindog Parade – an event filled with canines and Christmas cheer. We brought Ursa, The Three-Legged Reindog, and she was the center of attention and affection. Not that I’m at all surprised. Poor Hanna was left at home, as it was too much to bring both kids AND both dogs, given their ebullient, people-loving personalities. While we adore our friendly pups, it can be overwhelming to manage in large group settings such as this. Sunny had a run in with Santa Claus but decided she didn’t want to go sit on his lap, so we made an early exit.
We then hosted dinner for an amazingly thoughtful, fun group of friends that were in town and spent Sunday making popcorn garlands, and stringing up lights outside, and cleaning the chicken coop. December on the farm. I like it. I like it a lot.
What did YOU do this weekend?
We haven’t washed away. Our house is still standing. And the chickens haven’t blown off the farm. Good morning, SANDY!
And it happened, friends. Confirmation that Amelia is in fact Emilio. James went up to the coop on Sunday morning to let the flock out and happened upon the infant stages of a rooster’s crow. Listen to the audio clip for your own cock-a-doodle-dooing!
Cock-a-doodle-doo.mp3Other weekend highlights included planting next year’s garlic crop. It’s seriously this easy. And prepping our other garden beds for the colder months ahead.
James continued scraping and sanding and prepping the south side of our house for a paint job. We’re going to be changing the color of the house, but we’re only doing one side before the winter sets in. Ah the things we can get away with thanks to living at the dead end of a rural dirt road.
I started this cowl, and spent far too many hours knitting and plowing through episodes of Breaking Bad and then Weeds. Apparently I’m on a drug-themed show kick. But dang it feels good to put my (knitting) needles back to work.
And here are a few snaps from these moody fall days.
1. I drive past that little shed every day en route to work. And every time it puts a smile on my face. I had to finally share her with you.
2. Rapunzel (aka Sunny) rolling in the grass.
3. The hens just love jumping the fence and coming down into our yard. Must be thrilling stuff, pecking at the dogs’ turf and risking an assault by Hanna Banana.
4. It was fire safety week at Sunny’s school, thus the new accessory for her cranium.
5. Kaki’s favorite spot in the house. The corner of the playroom, seated in a chair among her board books.
Well it was bound to happen. And it has.
Our flock is down one hen.
RIP, dear Babs.
A young Redtail Hawk took out one of our Buff Orpingtons this afternoon. James went up to the coop to check on the girls, and there, happily dining inside the fence, was this asshole.
The rest of the girls were huddled inside the coop, under the coop, and even in a barn stall, hiding out, hoping to avoid a similar fate.
After scaring off the hawk, James returned to the house and broke the news to Sunny.
The conversation went as follows:
Him: I have some bad news, sweetie. A hawk killed one of our chickens.
Her (eyes wide as saucers): ALL of our chickens?
Him: No, just one. The hawk was hungry, so she ate Babs for a snack.
Her: Did the hawk eat Dora, too?
Him: No, just Babs.
Her: (a pause to contemplate the news)… But we still have more chickens. The hawk didn’t eat all of our chickens. Just one. Because she was hungry. But we still have chickens! It’s okay. I’ll tell Mommy that we’ll get her a new Babs. It’s alright because we still have chickens. They didn’t ALL get eaten.
She broke the news to me over the phone, and explained everything in just this fashion. When James got back on the phone I asked him if he had explained to her that it was okay because we still had eight chickens left. And he explained that no, she really had come to that conclusion all on her own.
And for this, and so many other reasons, this little girl is my hero.
Later that afternoon, Addison took to comforting the remaining flock, and went with James to lay Babs’ body (what remained of it anyway) to rest out in our meadow.
I never thought I’d be so inspired by a three-year old. I hope that I can do the same for her one day.
I snapped these photos right before we headed east. You’ll fall over when you see how much the girls have grown in just two weeks time. Ask our babysitter who found me supine in the coop this morning after beholding the growth myself.
But for now, here are pictures of our flock two weeks prior, with Sunny, The Chicken Whisperer. As Kimmy commented a few weeks back, how awesome is it going to be when Addison summons them a la Jim Carey in Ace Ventura and they all come squabbling over to her open arms?
Yeah, THAT awesome.
Photos: Courtesy of Ashley Weeks Cart