Life on a Tightrope

Our first year as ranchers, we started out with two steer named Premium and Malcolm, both of whom were delicious, in their time.  Next to be acquired was Vienna, who was a little “mutt” calf Jeremy took pity on and brought home.  She was 5 weeks old and had to be bottle fed 3 times a day.  I was pregnant with Alison at the time, and both Vienna and Malcolm would nuzzle my belly while I held the bottle.  Needless to say, we bonded.  Vienna is a full fledged cow now, having had several calves of her own.  Most recently, she had little Uniqua here:



And just because calves are so dang cute, let’s see her attempt to stand for the first time:

Which came first, the chicken or the egg?  As it applies to us, the answer is the chicken.  We started out with a rooster named Gran’ Pappy (he was the most beautiful bird I have ever, ever seen), a hen and a moody teenage-type chick.  The teenage-type chick was so attached to her surrogate parents that she laid on the hens’ eggs with her, and took care of the chicks as if they were her own when they hatched.  It must have been nice for the hen to have a nanny, that first hatch.  Pretty soon we had a whole flock of chickens. 

This is just a few of them.  They refused to gather for a photo.

We have two large coops, both of which have outdoor space and nesting areas.  There are also two breeding pens, and three cages (small, medium and large) for the baby chicks.  We used to let them stay with the flock, but the term “pecking order” really does refer to pecking.  In the case of a large, ornery hen versus a baby chick, one of them is going to get its head pecked off – literally. 



Once we’ve got plenty of chicks, the roosters are taken away from the flock and rotated in the breeding pens throughout the summer and fall.  Without the roosters chasing them around, the hens finally get to earn their keep.  Their eggs can be one of several colors, depending on the breed of the chicken.  We have white, brown, and blue eggs here on our ranch.  We’re just so diverse like that.

The eggs can also range in size from large to itsy-bitsy.  Typically, your first year hens are going to lay about 20 dozen small to medium sized eggs.  Your more mature hens are going to lay fewer per year, about 16 dozen, but they are larger eggs.  We cull the flock each fall and keep the good producers through the winter, when they don’t lay at all because there are less than 14 hours of daylight. 

As you might imagine, we usually eat a boatload of eggs.  This year, with Blythe being allergic, we’ll probably be selling the majority of them.  We don’t, however, eat our own chickens because that is just too much work.  Dirty work, at that.  We have enough people interested in buying our chickens so that I can go buy some boneless, skinless breasts at the store, no plucking or neck wringing involved. 

We have two main categories of goats on our ranch: Small Goats and Big Goats.  Or, Not Profitable and Profitable, if you will.

The Small Goats, which are actually Pygmy Goats, don’t make us any money.  Well, there was that one time we made $70 off of a little 4-H girl, but if you take into account the amount of money spent on them, we’re pretty much in the red.  So why would we keep a breed of animal around that costs us money, time, and resources and is pretty much good for absolutely nothing?  Because they look like this:

And really, if you want to show up Paris Hilton or some other socialite carrying around a tiny teacup dog, put a baby pygmy goat in your purse.  Better yet, go ahead and drop in two.  Because the only thing in the wide, wide world cuter than a baby pygmy goat?  Is two baby pygmy goats.  Although you might not find them quite as cute when they poop in your lipstick.

The second category of goats around here, as I mentioned, is Big Goats.  Are Big Goats?  Whatever.  We have two Big Goat breeds.

The Nubians (these are babies):
 

and the Boers (this one’s a buck, which means has balls)
(balls not pictured, sorry):


Nubians are known for being dairy goats, and Boers are known for being meat goats.  We don’t drink or eat goat, we just breed them, and feed them, and pet them, and castrate them because if you don’t, they stink, and then we sell them.  In case you were wondering, goat balls get banded which is a lot less messy than with immediate removal like the pigs.  Those things just shrivel up and fall off, I’m not. even. kidding.

We like the Big Goats because they birth easily.  We’ll just be wandering around and go, ‘Oh dang!  We’ve got three new Big Goats!’.  Whereas with the Little Goats, they tend to have more trouble and require some intervention.  More than once we’ve been up in the middle of the night, birthin’ some pygmy goats.  I’ve had my hand up a goat more times than I can count, and people?  I don’t even get paid for this.

There are two resident pigs here on the ranch.

The one on the left is “Miss Piggy”, (quite an original name) and the one on the right is “Huey”.

Huey is quite the affectionate mate.

Look at him loving on Miss Piggy.


And still, loving on Miss Piggy.  Get a room, you two. 

The female pig is a Sow, and the male pig is a Boar.  There are a few main differences between the Sow and the Boar.  As you may have noticed, the Sow is often smaller in stature.  Also, the Sow has 12 to 14 “teats” and can have just as many piglets, because she has two uteri.  Each piglet claims its own teat which is why, if there are more piglets than teats, you will have a runt.


The gestational period for pigs is 3 months, 3 weeks and 3 days.  How can we know just exactly when she conceived, anyway?  Well, pigs make an awful racket when they, um, do it, so it’s pretty hard to miss.  About a week or so before she’s due, we put the Sow into the farrowing crate, pictured here.  The whole idea is to keep the Sow from rolling over on the piglets with her big ol’ behind, while affording the piglets ample room to nurse.  The piglets stay in a smallish pen with their mama, until they are ready to be sold.