Welcome to Lake Poop

The weather here has been seriously foul.  We have experienced almost the entire spectrum of precipitation over the past few days: snow, wet snow, freezing rain, cold rain, mist, ugh...

As such, it was not surprising upon entering the donkey and sheep barn this morning that my boots went "smoosh, smoosh" into the straw covering the floor.  So much for a clean, dry sleeping space.

The usual dirt and gravel floor had turned to a stinky, sludgy mess - a combination of mud and poop - super icky.

What started as a little puddle....

If I were a donkey, I would not want to sleep in that mess so once I got the boys down for nap, I hightailed it outside to muck out the muck.  Eight shovels in I began to wonder if I was making a mistake.  What started as smooshy sludge was, with each shovelful, quickly becoming a liquid poop lake.

....quickly turned into a poop lake.

I checked outside and sure enough the melting snow was pooling under the hay loft side of the barn and seeping under its wood floor into the animal side of the barn.  The result was an ankle deep puddle of snow melt and animal poop pooling in the half of the barn where the animals sleep.

After scooping out what I could, I then tried to make things better by spreading out a generous amount of clean, dry straw.  I am not sure if this will soak up some of the water but I sure hope so.

I also left the door to the empty hay loft open so perhaps a few of the animals will opt to sleep in there on the drier wood floor.

What a mucky mess.  Welcome to lake poop?  Thanks but no thanks.

Maharaja Big Mac

Liam spent the morning with Grandma at a pottery class for children and then he took her out for chicken nuggets at, you guessed it, "Old MacDonald's".

Liam on his way out the door: "Guess what, Mom? I'm going for PROCESSED FOOD!"
Me: Sigh.

Not an hour later, I received a phone call from Ian.  He is currently on holiday in Delhi following a work trip to Hyderabad, India.  Where was he calling from exactly?  You guessed it, a MacDonald's. He had ordered the vegetarian Maharaja Mac. Like father, like son, much?

In contast, Seamus, Alistair and I spent the morning planting tomato seeds. We are aware that we are about two weeks too early but between the blizzard that is currently blowing about outside and the MacDonald's love fest going on around us, we felt justified in planting farm fresh tomatoes a tiny bit ahead of schedule.

Check out some photos of Ian's trip so far:

Patty Cake

Patty cake, patty cake, baker's...four year old?  Today Seamus baked his first loaf of bread by himself!

He measured, mixed, let it rise, stretched, folded, shaped, let it rise and baked.  All like a pro. 

Alistair provided encouragement in the form of adorable baby smiles.

No kneading by hand for this guy.

Ready to put it in the "rising machine". 
Seamus could not wait all day for it to rise at room temperature.

Mrs. Cheryl came by for a visit and to lend Seamus some moral support during his big bake.

 

I guided the steps gently but Seamus did everything himself
except score the loaf with the lame and put it in the oven.

He is SO proud.

Going into the oven.

Coming out of the oven.  Beautiful.

I am incredibly proud of my little baker man, though not nearly as proud as he was of himself.  #lifeskills #nextgeneration

With Seamus baking our daily bread, I was able to turn my loaf into pizza crust for a yummy dinner.

Fancy Pants

Focusing on whole, homemade foods has not curbed our ability to get fancy on the homestead.

This past weekend, Grandma, the boys, and I treated Alistair to his first afternoon tea.  We served rustic cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches and sweet potato scones.  We also wore our fancy tea cosy hats, of course.

Sweet potato scones.

Tea cosies for hats.

Tonight we celebrated Grandma's upcoming birthday with a fancy dinner party with Uncles Kyle and Shawn.  They brought delicious homemade tourtiere made using their home grown beef and homemade pastry.

Instead of a traditional birthday cake, we opted for something fancier: homemade crème brûlée made with our farm fresh eggs.

Before having kids I used to make crème brûlée frequently. I had even invested in three nice sets of ceramic ramekins that were perfect for crème brûlée. Unfortunately, they are also the perfect size for kid sized portions. As you might have guessed, when I went to look for them yesterday I found exactly three dishes out of the original twelve - one of which I am currently using as Beemster's water dish while he lives in the dog crate. Needless to say, we might be able to make fancy food but we still are not at the stage where we can have nice things.

Owl Eyes

Alistair hates his car seat - with a passion.

The one time he stayed asleep after I buckled him in:

Every other time:

There is nothing like the sound of a newborn wailing in a confined space to set your nerves on edge. The saving grace is that once the car starts moving Alistair goes to sleep almost immediately.  

#newborndays

Gael Glen Farm’s Finishing School for Naughty Goats

A quick trip to the doliar store and we are in business.

Surprisingly a quick spray of water works amazingly well to keep disrespectful goats in line! Soon we will have the most polite goats on this side of the Ottawa Valley.

Bad Goat or Bad Goat Owner?

We had our vet, Dr. Clarke, out to the farm today to do our annual check ups and vaccinations.  Here is the run down:

Dr. Clarke diagnosed Beemster the rooster as suffering from Bumblefoot.  This is a staphylococcus infection not unlike impetigo.  The vet recommended disinfecting with iodine and treating with a topical antibiotic cream.  Luckily I have some ointment left over from Liam's bout of impetigo which will be the perfect treatment.  The vet warned that the prognosis for birds with Bumblefoot is not great;  Beemster may still end up in the soup pot.  :(

Charlotte's many lumps and bumps on her chest and back are still of minimal concern, however, the vet also noticed that her eyesight is starting to go.  She is developing cloudy eyes, which for an 11 year old schnauzer is not unexpected.

Emily is in good health despite being somewhat deficient in the niceness department.  She has developed a skin tag near her top canine tooth that is unusual.  Dr. Clarke said that there is a chance it might be malignant so we will keep an eye on it and it might be necessary to remove the tooth and adjacent tag at some point in the future.

Charlie the donkey is fat.  This is not news.  As the vet put it "donkeys are always fat".  He suggested that we saddle her with a heavy pack and make her climb a mountain.  Helpful.

The sheep, Abbott and Molly, are in perfect health.  Meanwhile, Violet who suffered from a bout of diarrhea last week got blood taken so the lab could run some tests to rule out illnesses like Johne's disease.

The goats, Granby, Martha and Mellie, are all healthy and received their vaccinations.  The vet agreed that Granby, like Emily, is somewhat deficient in the personality department.

As I considered Granby's lack of politeness, I came across a helpful article on goat aggression that suggested that it is possible for owners of aggressive goats to curb their bad behaviour by teaching their goats who is dominant.  As it turns out, I have done a rather bad job of this thus far.  The article suggested that I use a spray bottle filled with water to deter undesirable goat behaviour like horning.  Basically I need to teach Granby who is boss.  And so it begins, my new quest to turn Granby into a respectful goat - at least until I sell him on Kijiji.

No more treats for you guys until I see some better behaviour!

A Solitary Bird

Upon entering the chicken coop last night I was careful to keep one eye on Granby.  Out of the corner of my other eye, however, I noticed that there was a blood bath on the top bar of the chickens' roost.  The first thought to cross my mind was FOX!  But no, everyone seemed to be present and accounted for.  The bloody spot is most often occupied by Beemster the rooster, so I stalked him around the coop (again keeping one eye on Granby) and finally tackled him. 

After flipping him upside down, sure enough I found a large bloody sore on the pad of his left foot.  I carried him to the house and cleaned out his foot with warm water and soap and then coated it with Polysporin.

Beemster spent the night and all of today in the luxury of a dog crate in the mudroom.  Alas, roosters are not meant to live in mudrooms.  Beemster himself smells fine but his poop really reeks.

Beemster's foot looked much better this evening and it is warmer outside tonight, so our very stinky rooster got relocated in his crate to staging area #2 (the garage).

I am hoping that he is better enough to return to the coop tomorrow or the next day.  Until then, Beemster is living a life of solitude.  I bet that he misses his ladies.