Come with us as we journey back into our past, and reveal our most embarrassing Homestead moments. This is our entry into the latest #homesteadingchallenge hosted by @kiaraantonoviche.
Anyone who has raised animals, or homesteaded with animals for any length of time will know that death on a homestead is as much a part of it as life can be. It's not always fluff and buttercups out here.
Underestimating the Power of a Raccoon
Last year, our first year on the Homestead, one of our first things was to establish a new laying flock. We're a small family of four and were only looking for enough hens to supply our family's needs for eggs. We decided on three buff orpington chicks, and I got to work building their coop--an A frame design. Fast forward a few months and our hens were growing well and nearing their laying age. It was then that disaster struck.
I went out one morning to check on the hens but one was missing. "Crap," I thought. I pretty much knew what had happened. A raccoon had gotten one of the hens, but I didn't know how!
After close examination, I found evidence of it getting in where the PVC feeder passed through the fencing. I fixed the area, shored up any other possible weaknesses, and was satisfied. It was a bummer to loose one hen, but two would still be okay for us. Unbeknownst to us, disaster struck again that night; and with a vengeance!
The following day I was out working in the yard and decided to go let the hens out for a while to free range the area. As I walked to the coop I noticed they weren't out yet, which was odd for mid-morning. I arrived to find the coop and run completely empty. The raccoons had stuck again and taken the other two hens in the middle of the night! The perplexing part was how they got in. It took a while to figure out, but their prints--either from mud or blood--told the tale.
They climbed up the fencing and to the top of the coop. They then went down to the roof of the nesting box and pried open the door. Once they were in, they made quick work of the poor girls; dragging them out the way they came in and off into the woods behind our property. There was a trail of feathers. Graphic, but that's what happened. Lesson learned: raccoons suck and coops require a very secure lock--one with a locking latch!
A Good Idea Goes Bad
Along with our laying hens of above, we had our first broiler flock last year, too. I built a Joel Salatin inspired pastured poultry enclosure to let our flock be grass fed on the field for their raising. This enclosure was about 10 feet square and 2 feet tall. Made from 2x4 lumber and metal roofing, it was not very lightweight. Add to this that our homestead is on a hill, and this made for a heck of a chore to move the pen from spot to spot every other day as needed to keep them on fresh grass.
About the third or fourth time moving it, I had an idea of how to make it easier. I'd use my garden tractor to slowly tow it behind and onto the fresh spot! A great idea... mostly.
You see, I had forgotten two things; chickens are dumb, and chickens are dumb! I hooked up my tractor to the tow rope at the front, put it into creeper gear, and slowly (I mean, painfully slowly) crawled along to move the pen. My wife was walking behind keeping an eye on things while doing her best to also watch our two young boys. Everything was going great! This was an awesome idea and was going to save us so much pain and work! Until...
"Woah! Stop, stop, stop ssstttoooppp!!!!"
Right as this string of panic registered in my head, I felt a thud behind me and stopped. I turned around to see my wife at the back of the pen with a solemn look on her face and her eyes fixed on the grass. I had run over two chickens with the poultry pen.
To make matters worse, one of them was not dead yet. I quickly helped it rest, grabbed the shovel and took a walk up the hill to the edge of the woods. As I dug the hole, I had a few thoughts running through my head. "You idiot!" "Poor little chickens, what a way to go... and so early!" "What are the boys thinking right now? Did they really see it happen?" Yes, they did.
You see, this had all happened right in front of them. They were walking with Mommy, doing their part to watch and follow daddy as he pulled the box of chickens around the grass, and were having fun at this new and interesting event that was taking place. My youngest son was too young to know or realize what happened, but my oldest wasn't. He was nearly 4 years old and very attuned to his surroundings. After I came back down the hill I sat with him to ask him if he knew what had happened and if he was okay.
- Him: "Yeah, daddy. The chickens weren't looking and got run over."
- Me: "You're right. I'm sorry it happened, it was an accident, but they're not hurting anymore."
- Him: "I know, it will be okay. I'll watch next time. Wanna go play now?"
My goodness... the pure innocence and pure honesty of a child! I was relieved he was not upset and impressed at his grasp of what had happened and that accidents like that do happen. We didn't try moving the coop with the tractor again except for extreme uphill relocation of the group. During those times, we were very careful and thankfully didn't loose any more birds.
Lazarus the Rooster
This story takes us back to the Broiler Flock, but to the time of their butchering. We had 30+ birds to harvest and enlisted my brother to help as well as bring a few of his roosters to cull at the same time. Our method of dispatching the chickens was with a killing cone and sharp knife to bleed them out.
We were probably 75% through the flock when we placed a big rooster in a cone to process. We cut the throat and held it while it worked through it's initial kicking phase and relaxed to continue to bleed--our normal workflow that we had been doing all day.
The rooster was in the cone, nearly finished when it began thrashing all of the sudden and jumped out! Needless to say, this absolutely scared the crap out of us! The chicken flopped on the grass a little, then sat up and just looked at us! "How the heck is that still alive?!" we asked each other. Then we immediately had the thought that it was terrible to watch and we needed to finish the job fast so it wasn't suffering more.
We picked it up and put it back in the cone and checked that it continued to bleed freely from both sides of the neck. It quit moving and relaxed fully. We walked back to the table to finish the birds on the table, but dang if that bird didn't jump out again!
By this time we were all thoroughly freaked out. What the heck was with this bird! Equally as freaked, and not wanting to grab it for a third time, my brother drew his handgun and shot it. This time, it was dead. Though we left it for another 5 minutes before we were all thoroughly convinced.
We processed it the same as the others and finished out the rest of the flock. Later, when telling others of our story, more than one person was shocked that we kept the meat from this "crazy bird". We didn't give it much thought at the time, but it would have been a waste to not use it.
Making Memories
We have a saying in our family that was no doubt used in each of the above scenarios: Making Memories!
Whether good or bad, when something notable happens in our lives we try to stop and make a memory of it. All of these were definitely memorable!
