Been awhile since I've posted, and since I've got a cold, can't breathe through my nose, and thus won't be sleeping well even I go to bed, I'm sitting here processing photos for my gallery, and well, blogging ;) Plus there's been quite a bit going on in these parts...at least for our little world.
So let's see...chicken check-in (or as one of my coworkers has dubbed it "the chicken saga"). On the meaty side of things we ate the first of our now-frozen meat birds. I must say that it was the best chicken I think I've ever had. Just delicious. And huge...I think our family got 3 meals out of 1 bird!!! More than all this though, it's been very profound being to close to the cycle of life, and to raise an animal then eat it. Pretty much impossible to not think about its life and being. I think for some people that freaks them out...to have established a relationship with the animals we eat. One thing's for sure: I'd like to start processing our birds here.
On the pullet front, we've still got all of them. Plus a few weeks ago a coon nabbed one of the last remaining 2 Rhode Island Red hens of our original flock. Can't very well have a hen without a flock, and after some time of watching her try to assimilate (poorly) with the pullets, Kelly heard or read that as long as chickens wake up together, it's like they've always been together. So for a couple nights in a row after Red (as we call her)and the pullets were asleep, I'd take her down and put her on a roost in the new hen house. The third night she went down on her own and we now have a flock of 12 birds again! Though just barely because a couple days ago...
We had a Coopers Hawk attack the chickens!!! Was just sitting in my newly-moved-into-the-heated-cozy-house-from-the-unheated-now-very-uncozy-barn working away when out of the corner of my eye I saw a shadow flick across the yard. The chickens all saw it too, cuz they *froze*. Didn't think much of it, though a few minutes later I heard a big squawking ruckus and looked out the window to see the hawk's tail disappearing into the bushes where the chickens hang out. So I hauled ass out there armed with a couple of Raelin's rain boots to watch it fly under another bush, catch one of the pullets, and proceed to stand on it. Until it say and heard me yelling profanity and waving rain boots. Both the boots and hawk took flight. Haven't seen the hawk again, though it took the rest of the day for all the birds to come out of hiding. Things were terrified. The next morning they seemed to have remembered that something had happened and they should stay under cover...by afternoon they'd forgotten and were back out in the open like nothing had happened...
We've also been busy buying stuff; happily very little of it new/full price. First there was the impending visit from Boston friends followed by a long visit by my brother and no place for any one to sleep. Kelly ended up finding pretty much the exact couch/sleeper we wanted in Uncle Henry's (if you don't know about this, well, you're just missing out ;): an LL Bean Ultralight. It's great. Small, very light, and folds out into a full size bed, which is surprisingly comfortable. I should know as I've spent several nights on it between Liam being night weaned and having the cold that I now have ;) Anyhow, the couch lives in the former-playroom-that's-now-my-office. We have an actual *grown up* room in our house! Very exciting and Kelly and I gravitate to it each evening after the kids are in bed.
Couple other smaller purchases are a new digital camera to replace the one that got left in a backpack out in the rain. Not so good. I went to charge it up and there's a pool of water trapped in some layer of the LCD. Not so good. Amazon to the rescue and a big upgrade for not a big price. Right around the same time I managed to blow out at least 2 of the speakers in the Subaru. Didn't even have the music that load but a track came on with a big bass hit right at the harmonic resonance of the cones are crunch; they were gone before my hand was halfway to the volume knob. Once again Amazon to the rescue with a pair of inexpensive Alpines. I've wanted to put new speakers in that car for some time now, so I wasn't too bummed to lose the stock ones ;)
And the big purchase: a truck! A friend of ours is selling his 97 Tacoma. I've been wanting one of those trucks since they came out. Until now though, we've never really had a need for a truck. Very serendipidously I have a client that I haven't billed for 4 months right when my buddy decides for all that he's selling, and the invoice will almost pay for it. Beautiful vehicle...just need to get it checked out by a mechanic and wait for the check to come in. Will be *so* nice to be able to finish cleaning up the wood piles around, get soil and compost moved, buy building supplies, the list goes on and on. Very stoked!
Anyhow, we're well into Fall here. Lots of stunning colors and crisp temps, though right now we're getting a warm rain. Hopefully the wind won't know all the leaves down...
Friday, October 19, 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
anyone up for some hot Dickens...
oh wait. this is a PG blog... (surely some Santa Cruz KPIG listeners will remember that line and be able to fill in the blank...)
So, we gathered with a few other families today and pressed many of our apples and a variety of others gathered from around Rockland into yummy, all nat-u-ral cider. Sooooo gooooood!! It was even worth a short trip to the emergency room on my part.
Let me explain.
The press was happening at a friends home and farm. Another family will soon be venturing into a tofu making enterprise, and it so happens that a hydraulic tofu press will also press some mean cider. After some tinkering in the morning, it was going strong by the afternoon. A typical cider press is done manually and has a part for crushing the apples prior to pressing. Not the case for the tofu press which is meant for tiny soy beans, so the crushing part was left to the muscle power of the group. A couple of very appropriate tools were procured- one, a super heavy, steel tamper. Imagine a 9x9 steel square (flat) on the end of a steel pole. Doable by one person, easier going with two, raising and dropping the tamper on a few gallons of apples at the bottom of a 50 gallon plastic barrel. The tamper crushed the apples into small enough pieces that could then be chopped even smaller by another tool that was many small blades on the end of a long pole. Probably meant for breaking up clods of dirt in the field.
Anyhoo, all was going along swimmingly. Kids were going nuts, wild inside, wild outside. Adults were industrious and social, wine, beer conversation, cider. Chili, risotto baked in a pumpkin (YUM!) and other goodies were warming inside. Plans were being laid for a bonfire.
After doing some duty inside with Liam, i went out to lend some energy to a few of the final batches needing to be crushed. Three of us were taking turns holding the barrel, using the tamper, and gabbing. My friend J had just finished tamping and let go of the tamper. Being heavy steel, it promptly fell over. Onto my face.
Ouch.
By the look of horror and concern on my friends' faces, i could only assume that there was some serious damage. There was running blood, that was for sure. The pain was not too bad. I was a bit scared to touch my fear that it was in fact my nose that had been hit and crushed.
Thankfully, no. It did cleave a nice gash just to the left of my right eyebrow, about 1/2" long. Deep and gaping enough that a visit to the ER was in order in case stitches were needed.
I'll save you the ER story, except to say that i got out of there with a bit of Dermaglue (think super expensive super glue) and a tetanus shot. Probably a $500 pasting job billed to our insurance. Thanks, Live World.
A memorable first cider pressing, to be sure. We came home with a story and 9 gallons of fresh pressed cider for fridge and freezer. Schweet.
So, we gathered with a few other families today and pressed many of our apples and a variety of others gathered from around Rockland into yummy, all nat-u-ral cider. Sooooo gooooood!! It was even worth a short trip to the emergency room on my part.
Let me explain.
The press was happening at a friends home and farm. Another family will soon be venturing into a tofu making enterprise, and it so happens that a hydraulic tofu press will also press some mean cider. After some tinkering in the morning, it was going strong by the afternoon. A typical cider press is done manually and has a part for crushing the apples prior to pressing. Not the case for the tofu press which is meant for tiny soy beans, so the crushing part was left to the muscle power of the group. A couple of very appropriate tools were procured- one, a super heavy, steel tamper. Imagine a 9x9 steel square (flat) on the end of a steel pole. Doable by one person, easier going with two, raising and dropping the tamper on a few gallons of apples at the bottom of a 50 gallon plastic barrel. The tamper crushed the apples into small enough pieces that could then be chopped even smaller by another tool that was many small blades on the end of a long pole. Probably meant for breaking up clods of dirt in the field.
Anyhoo, all was going along swimmingly. Kids were going nuts, wild inside, wild outside. Adults were industrious and social, wine, beer conversation, cider. Chili, risotto baked in a pumpkin (YUM!) and other goodies were warming inside. Plans were being laid for a bonfire.
After doing some duty inside with Liam, i went out to lend some energy to a few of the final batches needing to be crushed. Three of us were taking turns holding the barrel, using the tamper, and gabbing. My friend J had just finished tamping and let go of the tamper. Being heavy steel, it promptly fell over. Onto my face.
Ouch.
By the look of horror and concern on my friends' faces, i could only assume that there was some serious damage. There was running blood, that was for sure. The pain was not too bad. I was a bit scared to touch my fear that it was in fact my nose that had been hit and crushed.
Thankfully, no. It did cleave a nice gash just to the left of my right eyebrow, about 1/2" long. Deep and gaping enough that a visit to the ER was in order in case stitches were needed.
I'll save you the ER story, except to say that i got out of there with a bit of Dermaglue (think super expensive super glue) and a tetanus shot. Probably a $500 pasting job billed to our insurance. Thanks, Live World.
A memorable first cider pressing, to be sure. We came home with a story and 9 gallons of fresh pressed cider for fridge and freezer. Schweet.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
I'm back. There are 13 hefty birds, plucked and gutted chilling in our fridge.
It's all a bit surreal, really. A few hours ago i was working up a little sweat chasing the waddlers around the yard- with Raelin's help- and loading them into boxes in the back of my mom's car. Chasing and catching chickens is *definitely* a job for the young and agile, of which i willing admit that i am no longer. No, 10 and under are best suited for rounding up poultry, no doubt about it. Perhaps even 6 and under. The closer you are to them, the easier it is to snatch them and probably the more delighted you are by their squacks and gobbles and desperate attempts to escape.
The woman who recommended West Gardiner Beef as our butcher was right on when she said the most time is spent simply driving there. It's not unlike a fast food, in which you order in one window and pick-up at the next. Which is a bit odd since that's kind of the opposite intent here, at least on our end. The poultry building is a cinderblock structure with a loading door and porch where you back up and are met by a young guy or two in blood stained and dripping coveralls. They nonchalantly grab your birds by the feet, on in each hand, fairly oblivious to their protests. Said butcher takes them matter of factly into the room and sticks them head first into a large cone-shaped thing mounted on the wall. Squacking ceases. Heads are detached. It's all quite quick and i guess fairly humane though i was disturbed by how stressed they obviously were in the transfer from car to guillotine. I mean, i suppose 15 weeks of lazy, free range life punctuated by the occasional scramble away from a preschooler counts for something, even if the last few moments are fraught with "what the FU--!???!!!"
When all the birds have been unloaded, approx. 10 minutes or less later, i pull my car around and back it up to the door on the opposite side of the building where 2 even younger guys (like 17 and maybe 13) are chatting me up and loading my warm, plucked birds into bagged boxes and covered with ice. The older kid- a red head- tells me that they are about done for the morning. Now there's clean up, and that's a bigger job. i can only imagine. I think they'd been going at it since 7:30am, and while it's only 10:30, in the 20 or so minutes i'd witnessed the operation, i think nearly 40 birds had been processed. He also informs me that turkeys are more work... take longer to clean and whatnot. Good to know, i guess.
So 5 minutes and $32.75 later, i'm heading out the driveway in search of a cup of coffee, my car noticeably quieter than it was on the drive up.
My guess is that we'll be there again, though there is something amiss for me in such a detached slaughter. I said my silent good-byes and thank-yous as they were pulled out, two by two, but it felt fairly lame and lost in all the activity. Can't think that even on a subconscious, cosmic, whatever-you -might-call-it level my lone vibes penetrated the stress and abruptness of the whole thing. But I can't discount the whole experience for the end... we enjoyed those birds. I think they enjoyed their life. I certainly won't be making any fried chicken or quesadillas from those drumsticks. No, they will be carefully roasted and dressed with yummy veggies and savored in their individuality, every last morsel.
Perhaps, even, tomorrow.
It's all a bit surreal, really. A few hours ago i was working up a little sweat chasing the waddlers around the yard- with Raelin's help- and loading them into boxes in the back of my mom's car. Chasing and catching chickens is *definitely* a job for the young and agile, of which i willing admit that i am no longer. No, 10 and under are best suited for rounding up poultry, no doubt about it. Perhaps even 6 and under. The closer you are to them, the easier it is to snatch them and probably the more delighted you are by their squacks and gobbles and desperate attempts to escape.
The woman who recommended West Gardiner Beef as our butcher was right on when she said the most time is spent simply driving there. It's not unlike a fast food, in which you order in one window and pick-up at the next. Which is a bit odd since that's kind of the opposite intent here, at least on our end. The poultry building is a cinderblock structure with a loading door and porch where you back up and are met by a young guy or two in blood stained and dripping coveralls. They nonchalantly grab your birds by the feet, on in each hand, fairly oblivious to their protests. Said butcher takes them matter of factly into the room and sticks them head first into a large cone-shaped thing mounted on the wall. Squacking ceases. Heads are detached. It's all quite quick and i guess fairly humane though i was disturbed by how stressed they obviously were in the transfer from car to guillotine. I mean, i suppose 15 weeks of lazy, free range life punctuated by the occasional scramble away from a preschooler counts for something, even if the last few moments are fraught with "what the FU--!???!!!"
When all the birds have been unloaded, approx. 10 minutes or less later, i pull my car around and back it up to the door on the opposite side of the building where 2 even younger guys (like 17 and maybe 13) are chatting me up and loading my warm, plucked birds into bagged boxes and covered with ice. The older kid- a red head- tells me that they are about done for the morning. Now there's clean up, and that's a bigger job. i can only imagine. I think they'd been going at it since 7:30am, and while it's only 10:30, in the 20 or so minutes i'd witnessed the operation, i think nearly 40 birds had been processed. He also informs me that turkeys are more work... take longer to clean and whatnot. Good to know, i guess.
So 5 minutes and $32.75 later, i'm heading out the driveway in search of a cup of coffee, my car noticeably quieter than it was on the drive up.
My guess is that we'll be there again, though there is something amiss for me in such a detached slaughter. I said my silent good-byes and thank-yous as they were pulled out, two by two, but it felt fairly lame and lost in all the activity. Can't think that even on a subconscious, cosmic, whatever-you -might-call-it level my lone vibes penetrated the stress and abruptness of the whole thing. But I can't discount the whole experience for the end... we enjoyed those birds. I think they enjoyed their life. I certainly won't be making any fried chicken or quesadillas from those drumsticks. No, they will be carefully roasted and dressed with yummy veggies and savored in their individuality, every last morsel.
Perhaps, even, tomorrow.
Friday, October 5, 2007
what possessed me to choose this template? god it's ugly. for reporting about living in in such a beautiful place, its' not doing much to visually back up the written word. course i could also follow up with my promise to download pictures as well.
want to know a secret?
living in the country does not mean your life moves at a slower pace. Perhaps, in fact, the opposite. I have more options for my time, many of which are more fulfilling than downloading photos and then getting frustrated trying to figure out how to do a decent layout on the blog. For example- picking apples!!
In the soon-to-be-ours orchard, we are benefitting greatly from this bumper crop apple year. All around Maine the orchards are busting with fruit. According to a local orchardist, this can be attributed to the the fact that this year was the driest June in about 3-4 years. Less rainy days meant more active bees and therefore more pollination. Interesting, and rather common sense. Not that i knew it, but it makes perfect sense on that logical level that is how nature works (usually).
But back to the actual apples. No doubt that they are organic- blight and bumps and bruises- but tasty! crisp and tart! whoever planted that orchard came from my line of thinking- there are several varieties planted, and then a couple of pear trees down at the bottom. Bitty things; kevin and the kids collected only about a dozen or so but they were in great condition and super yummy. Next weekend we'll haul a bunch to a harvest party at my friend Jen's and mix them in with whatever other folks bring and do a big cider press.
In other ridge news, tomorrow is D-day for the meat birds. We have a 10 am appt. at the butcher. I called yesterday to get directions and ask how they recommended i transport them. I figured a box or a dog crate or something, but wanted to check to see if they had a better idea. The woman who answered the phone was great, agreed that a dog crate or box would be fine, or i could go there early and pick up a few of their poultry crates and borrow them. Whatever you do, she said, they dont' want them in burlap sacks.
seriously!? who brings their chickens to be slaughtered in burlap sacks!? They aren't dead yet, people! Sometimes i have to shake my head...
Needless, i wont' be doing that.
It is time for them, though. They are fat. They waddle; honest-to-god waddle and not very far because their legs cant' really sustain the heft. Poor dears. They were bred for one thing only. It's a bit sad, really, to see an animal that is so clearly intended for one purpose trying to live out some existence otherwise. I think next time we might get birds that dont' appear to be so destined for the freezer.
Then again, maybe i'll make that call after a taste test...
want to know a secret?
living in the country does not mean your life moves at a slower pace. Perhaps, in fact, the opposite. I have more options for my time, many of which are more fulfilling than downloading photos and then getting frustrated trying to figure out how to do a decent layout on the blog. For example- picking apples!!
In the soon-to-be-ours orchard, we are benefitting greatly from this bumper crop apple year. All around Maine the orchards are busting with fruit. According to a local orchardist, this can be attributed to the the fact that this year was the driest June in about 3-4 years. Less rainy days meant more active bees and therefore more pollination. Interesting, and rather common sense. Not that i knew it, but it makes perfect sense on that logical level that is how nature works (usually).
But back to the actual apples. No doubt that they are organic- blight and bumps and bruises- but tasty! crisp and tart! whoever planted that orchard came from my line of thinking- there are several varieties planted, and then a couple of pear trees down at the bottom. Bitty things; kevin and the kids collected only about a dozen or so but they were in great condition and super yummy. Next weekend we'll haul a bunch to a harvest party at my friend Jen's and mix them in with whatever other folks bring and do a big cider press.
In other ridge news, tomorrow is D-day for the meat birds. We have a 10 am appt. at the butcher. I called yesterday to get directions and ask how they recommended i transport them. I figured a box or a dog crate or something, but wanted to check to see if they had a better idea. The woman who answered the phone was great, agreed that a dog crate or box would be fine, or i could go there early and pick up a few of their poultry crates and borrow them. Whatever you do, she said, they dont' want them in burlap sacks.
seriously!? who brings their chickens to be slaughtered in burlap sacks!? They aren't dead yet, people! Sometimes i have to shake my head...
Needless, i wont' be doing that.
It is time for them, though. They are fat. They waddle; honest-to-god waddle and not very far because their legs cant' really sustain the heft. Poor dears. They were bred for one thing only. It's a bit sad, really, to see an animal that is so clearly intended for one purpose trying to live out some existence otherwise. I think next time we might get birds that dont' appear to be so destined for the freezer.
Then again, maybe i'll make that call after a taste test...
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