GOODNIGHT, CHARLIE.
Partially out of skepticism, and partially out of denial, we wanted to wait a little while to write this post. Because our beloved Charlie cat, mother of Scooter and the best mouser this side of the Mississippi, is gone.Right before the big cold snap, but right after those ten inches of snow, we let Charlie out to do her business and she never returned. The next morning, in the bitter cold, I followed her tracks through the snow to the end of our road, but got too cold to follow them further. Then again that night, she didn't come back.We have theories on what happened––predators maybe, maybe she went on vacation––but the truth remains that Charlie is gone. She was a great cat. She was sweet towards Further and a truly proficient predator. In terms of work animals––mousing being important work around here––she was absolutely tops. We loved her and we will miss her. She was a hard worker and a member of the family. So here's to you, Charlie. We love you. We miss you. We hope you show back up with a litter of kitties, but if not, know neither we nor our farm will ever be the same without you.- Jesse.
WHAT A BEAR.
After Further was born, Hannah didn't leave the house for two solid weeks. She stayed in the bed, or walked around the cabin, but she didn't actually step outside for that whole time.And one morning about a week and a half in, I went out to feed Wendell who was standing patiently on the porch as he always does. But as I opened the door Wendell pushed by me and stepped into the house. This was unusual.Wendell hates the house unless it's boiling hot or raining outside and even then, it's iffy. To him the house is where we dose him with natural flea medicine, or clean his ears. On this morning, however, Wendell fearlessly let himself in and went straight into the living room where Hannah was laying with Further. He sniffed Further and sniffed Hannah, then went back outside on his own and ate his food.I can't pretend to know what was going on in his head, but I love to think that he got worried when he hadn't seen Hannah in a while and decided to figure it out for himself.And it's not just this moment that I'm in awe of this dog––I'm in awe of him in general. He had such a tumultuous first couple years, moving from house to house and farm to farm, most of which were not ideal situations for his breed. It's a wonder he turned out as well as he did. Because he is indeed an excellent animal. He guards the house, he walks with us to the mailbox every day, hunts predators with me when they attack, and he checks on us when things change.Because Wendell's extraordinarily gentle with children––as if aware of his size and how intimidating he can be––we look forward to Further getting older and growing up with him. We're proud that Wendell will be Further's first dog, and confident he'll watch over him. We're one lucky family, and Wendell is one very important member of it.- Jesse.
NEW STRATEGIES.
As we deal with the fact that we are possibly having a baby any day now, we are trying to simplify some things around here. Since I am currently not as capable as I once was of chasing escaped pigs through the woods, we have them living in our garden where there is a permanent fence that they can't (theoretically) get out of. Jesse has been bringing them lots of treats since there is not as much for them to forage. And in perhaps some sort of reverse-psychology scheme, we have been letting the goats out every morning for an hour or so. They eat along the fence row for awhile and then simply walk back into their fenced in yard, content for the rest of the day. Cross your fingers that these strategies work for a little longer!- Hannah.
A SPECIAL THANKS.
It's dark and it's raining. Not hard, just obnoxiously––the kind of rain that seeks, that comes up from underneath, drifts sideways and finds your dry spots no matter how well covered they are. And for a bonus, the rain has made the ground around the house slick and muddy and ideal for handling turkeys.The turkeys are roosted by this point, so its easy enough to sneak up on them in the dark to load them into the truck. They kick and flail when we catch them, throwing mud and wetness about wildly, but everyone makes it in unharmed. Not thrilled, but unharmed.It feels good to have them loaded, and sad. And the next day it feels good to hand them one by one to the processor, and sad. It feels good and sad to raise an animal strictly to kill it, then good and sad to eat it. But that's what farming is and we are always thankful when we can feel both good and sad about an animal we eat. Because it's a lot of hard work, from start to muddy finish, but it's nothing in comparison to what they do for us.As difficult as they were this year, we are thankful for how much the turkeys challenged us, how much more they taught us about farming. Hannah and I are thankful these birds will be a part of so many good dinners, and appreciated by so many wonderful people. Thankful for our own bird, in the oven as I write this. Then when dinner is over, and leftovers exhausted, we will be thankful for how much richer the turkeys made our farm, and the strength and energy they give us to continue working on making it, our community and world a healthier place. Our thankfulness will not just be spoken at dinner then, but demonstrated in our actions throughout our lives. So thank you, Turkeys, we will do our best to never stop giving you thanks.- Jesse.