There is not much cuter than a kitten. There are many things cuter than a cat though. Unfortunately, so many who choose to get a kitten for a pet, do not want the cat when it is grown and they give it away if they can, or abandon it, or worse. Although I want to ensure the kittens go to good homes where they will be loved forever, there is no way I can make sure that happens.

The kittens have been spending most of their days outside with mamma cat or by themselves, exploring. One of the grey kittens likes to visit the rabbits and climbs through the chain link fence to see what is happening in the rabbit pen. The rabbits do not seem to mind. The dogs tend to ignore the kittens for the most part, which is a good thing. Being socialized with chickens, big dogs, geese and humans means that the kittens can go to almost any home and fit right in. Today they were offered some kibbles outside. Generally they have been fed inside Ofcharka's dog house, where they were born, because the geese, chickens and ducks love kibbles too and devour them before the kittens get any. Sure enough, the chickens came first, then the ducks, so the kibbles were moved to the dog house again. There is a rabbit cage at the opening to the dog house to prevent unwelcome visitors, but the cats can climb in and out easily now that they are bigger.

There are only 2 girls, the grey and the calico, and one grey, and the two orange babies are boys. My friend's barn tragically burned down and he lost his cats with it, so they could find a new home quite readily if there are no takers for domestic homes. Tomorrow they will posted on the internet. So long baby kitties. You are very very sweet indeed.

Thank you Eva, for taking the time to write. When I first started farming two years ago, I came from the city of White Rock in Vancouver and could not understand why people would not spay and neuter their animals. The cost to spay a dog in Vancouver runs around 75 dollars and here it is approximately $350. It is similar for a cat. All the animals on a farm have to work, unless there is an odd pet. On this farm, there are no pets, but many are considered friendly enough to be pets. Because of the predators that frequent farms, barn cats and outdoor cats may not last too long. The cost to the farmer to spay the animals in prohibitive when done by a vet, so many learn to castrate the males, but spaying a female is a true operation and is not practiced outside the veterinary clinics to my knowledge.
There are no male cats on this farm or the farms nearby that I know of. The cats were over a year old when they became pregnant for the first time, so the tom must have traveled some distance. My uncle used to drown the babies the moment they were born. I understand why now, though I still think it is cruel. Rescue operations are not interested in more cats. They are overfull and cannot rehome most of the felines they have. They are definitely not interested in spaying my two female cats, the only cats on the farm, plus the three male kittens (the females were rehomed).
Eva, you have made me think. The cats are of little value on the farm. They do not hunt much, other than the odd mouse, but the dogs and geese do better than the cats there. All creatures deserve to be loved. Affordable veterinary care would be helpful, though I still doubt the majority of farmers would spay or neuter cats. They simply disappear too often. I am sorry you could not support a farm that has kittens. If the truth be told, you would likely not be eating much more than you grow yourself then, since it is the way it is on a farm. Thank you for writing.

There was a peep under the chicken coop and something small ran. There was a peeping noise. The last duckling hatched, but mamma duck and the other two babies were gone and he was left alone. Hopefully, he would not get cold and die. I looked under the coop and did not see anything except eggs that were not hatched.

Finally, the little duck came out and tried to keep up to the mother and the two other little ducks, who were at least two days older than the new one. To warm up the baby, I gave him to the new broody chicken mamma. She readily accepted him under her already crowded wings and warmed him. I left him there for the day. By the day's end, the duckling sat pining for his family and was much stronger, so he was returned to his mother and siblings. As she waddled away, little duck was able to keep up to her. All will be well.

Early this morning around 5 am there was a shriek from the broody hen and a kerfluffle and lots more shrieks. Something attacked her while she sat on her nest. Her chicks were due in a day and this was very sad. The dogs were onto the predator immediately and the hen escaped with her life, though the feathers on the back of her neck and her the top of her back are completely plucked. Her skin did not appear to be punctured, but she was depressed. She left the nest and something ate some of the eggs. The babies were fully formed with eyes open, so they would have been hatching today or tomorrow most likely. The hen sat alone hunched over. I am sure she was in some pain from being plucked alive, frightened, though the sadness she felt was overwhelming. I am grateful to the dogs for their diligence in this matter. They did fight whatever it was because there was some white fur on the ground too, most likely from Harley, the biggest livestock guardian dog.

The other broody, the little hen that came last year from a mixed bunch of eggs, also sat in the tall grass just outside the fence. She was totally unprotected there. If the predator found her, the dogs would not be able to get over the fence in time. She hatched 14 babies, cute little fluffy things so tiny. She herself is not more than a few pounds, part Polish and possibly part Ameraucana, though definitely a bantam. The 15th egg was zipped, meaning the baby was alive and trying to get out of the shell. I did not feel I should take the chance and leave the brood there, so I packed them up and moved them into a hoop coop in the yard where they are fully protected. The last egg was placed carefully under the mamma. She was adorable with the little fuzzy butts peeking out from under her feathers. Yet, I was reminded of the sad little mamma who nearly lost her life sitting on her eggs. So, I took a chance.

I brought the injured mamma to the brood and put her inside. She heard the chirping babies and immediately went to them. The real mother did not reject her, but instead allowed her to rest beside her. I feel they will share the chicks. Later in the evening when I checked on the two mothers, they were sleeping peacefully with wings spread to keep the little ones warm . The injured broody was content and the mamma was content and the babies were, well, how could they not be happy with two mothers? They were all resting contentedly. Zzzzz.

The goaties get to come out in the yard from time to time, but only under supervision. They are highly destructive to vegetation. All trees within their reach will be decimated, all shrubs destroyed, especially pines, lilacs and Caragannas, and flowers, hanging baskets and other tasty morsels demolished. They will find their way into grain bags, bust through wire  and otherwise do almost anything to get grain. So, they are only allowed out when watched carefully. Over eating grain can cause death from bloat and they, like sheep, do not quit until they are too full or the grain is gone. Recently the sheep got into some grain. Fortunately, there was not much there, but it was enough to make about 6 sheep quite ill from stomach runs for two days. Yet, given a chance, they would be right back and eat the grain again as soon  as they could. Goats are the same with grain. They are not fed grain, nor are the sheep, only grass and hay.

Captain Morgan is the Japaense Bantam rooster with no feet. He was the low rooster in the pecking order and was not allowed to sit on the perch during winter, thereby freezing his feet. He was put in with the Flemish Giant rabbit, Petey and a lady for him, Sheila. Sheila and Captain Morgan bonded well and still hang around together, that is they did,  until they Ameraucana rooster grew up. Then he was relegated to very low man in the pecking order, so he hid in the back of the dog house where the Muscovy sisters built a nest. It was warm in there and safe from being terrorized by the other roosters, since the broody ducks protected Captain Morgan. In fact, they adopted him and he sleeps under the breast and wings of the ducks, along with the one little duckling they hatched. During the day his peg legs around the farm, feeding himself and avoiding the roosters. Sheila seems to have divorced him since he became a duck, but he does not follow the ducks around. They simply move too fast for him. On his own, he is fine and appears healthy and relatively content, though every night, now that the ducks are off the nest, he finds his way to where they sleep and gets tucked under a warm spot with the little duck. Now that is mother compassion at its height!

Goodness gracious, I am so blessed. My best friend from home (White Rock, my cousin and my son are here to help me around the farm, and boy, what a team! Blanche dug and stacked hundreds of patio bricks mostly by herself with a little aid in the end from my cousin, Dave. Travis (son) and Dave removed the debris from the demolished porch in several loads and took it down the pasture where it can be burned in the winter when there is snow on the ground and it is safe. Some plywood and 2 x 4's were salvaged, but the majority was not good lumber to begin with and the porch was not built correctly, resulting in most of it being rotten. Can you believe that the wood was simply put on the ground, not treated wood either, with no sand, gravel or footings. Oh well, it did stand for 30 years, but the floor was bouncy and there were gaps where the boards near the ground completely rotted away. The contractor was to bring a trailer and haul the debris away over 2 weeks ago, but like every other trade around here, he did not show up. My crew and I have decided we will rent a post pounder and at least get the fence posts in the ground. I can attach the boards to the fence in the yard. I do not know how to build braces and gates and stretch wire though, but Dave does, as he grew up on the farm. If Travis and I give him a hand, perhaps we can do the fencing ourselves. We are going to try some and see how it goes. In the least, the posts will be in the ground ready for the next step. Dave is also going to supervise and build the deck where the patio once was.

Once the yard fence is up, the roses and flowers can be planted, finally. They have been in pots since March patiently waiting to feel the earth around their roots. I am grateful for my friend, cousin and son and the selfless work they offer to me. I am humbled by their efforts and I feel very blessed indeed.

Last year a man came into the farm yard here at the Fat Ewe and parked, rolled his window down and stared out. He did not get out of his truck, just sat there. I wondered what he was up to and went out. I asked if I could help him and said no and continued to stare off in the distance. Then he apologized saying his mother passed away that morning, Hazel Hannah, was her name and that he grew up here  and lived in my house. I invited him in and gave him some coffee. Then he took me on a tour. He told me there was a door to the basement from the outside of the house and he brought the firewood for the winter in through it. We demolished the rotten porch and could see a bit of the door, which of course, is visible on the inside. I would think that having a door with stairs would be far more convenient than going through the house down the trap door. Many things do not fit in the narrow space and although the basement door is not wide, it would be much easier in the long run. The door would come up in the porch we are rebuilding or possibly to the outside. Travis dug out the door with the skid steer, which is leaking hydraulic fluid and cannot be driven until the nice mechanic man comes tomorrow and sees where the problem lies.

In the meantime the secret door is uncovered and retaining walls will be built to allow easy access. The sink will have to be moved over, but the general layout of the rectangular porch will remain the same. Old houses are so much fun, don't you think?

Tuesday is the market day, at least for the Fat Ewe Farm. The main item sold is soap, handmade the old fashioned way with lard as the base. The scents are from essential oils and are blended to benefit the user in certain ways. For example, the Rosy Geranium soap is rose and geranium based, both oils extremely beneficial to balance the feminine side. For ladies of a certain age it is quite lovely, but even men can benefit from the harmony created by the synergy of rose and geranium. Because it is a hot process soap, the essential oils are stronger. Hot process soap is made by cooking the lye, water and oil mixture until it is ready to use. Then it is packed in molds but the essential oils are added just before molding. Some soap is finished in the oven to give it a store bought smooth appearance allowing the heat of the oven to cook the soap more gently. There are also soap bags to use up the little slivers of soap and bath brushes, nail brushes and pumice stones. Baby clothes, towels, felted woolen items and paper impregnated with a preservative that is organic and natural are also feature items. Flyers and postcards for the bed and breakfast are available to those interested.

Minnie is the baby from my sow whom the neighbour now owns. She was the biggest of the piglets born and the strongest. There were 13 piglets, but only four girls. Minnie is a very fine specimen of a Berkshire pig with a long body and 16 teats. At first she was very wild, never having had any contact with humans except through a fence. She has been here a month and now she allows a gentle touch on her head or nose, but not for long. As she is more and more comfortable, she will most likely come for scratches and rubs just like Boris and Natasha, but Boris was traded for Minnie, so he will soon be going to live with my sow. The two are not related and came from entirely different regions and stock. At this time, I have no desire to breed Tasha or Minnie. There is little money in raising pigs in this area. People are not very willing to pay for pasture raised pork here and actually prefer pigs who are grain fed and did not get much of a chance to move around because the meat is sweet and tender. Pigs will consume a lot of grass and roots given a chance and they are very clean, only using a distant corner as their potty area. Even large pigs like Berkshires can be house trained, but they also can grow to a thousand pounds given a chance to live a long life. Who wants a giant house pig?
Minnie and Tasha will stay on the farm as the rototiller crew. They are responsible for tilling the hay and manure in the pens and that is a job they enjoy. Ideally, the pen should be left for a year afterwards and planted with good things for the animals to harvest upon their return. Once we have enough pens, this can take place. In the meantime, Minnie is a tilller in training and a darn cute one at that!

Today was a typical farm day. The folks left the bed and breakfast early this morning, but elected not to have breakfast. It did not take long to tidy up the house and change the beds, vacuum and get ready for the next crew. While waiting for the laundry, I did the morning chores and let the sheep in the yard to mow the lawn and fertilize.
The puppies are getting much bigger all the time. Now they must be watched to ensure they do not play too rough with the lambs. A ewe with them would be the next step to make them respect the sheep instead of dominate them, which they could easily do. I think the boys will grow to be quite large dogs if one can judge by their paws. They had raw meat and dog kibbles for supper, squabbled over the raw meat and then fell asleep once they were full.

The goslings are tripled in size if not more from their hatch date. They are well cared for by the 4 pairs of adult geese who protect them with their lives. It is delightful to watch them circle the babies if they sense harm and the babies huddle in the center of the adults squeaking away.

There were some visitors on the farm this afternoon who came to see the Icelandic sheep. They are considering sheep for milk and were curious about the taste, but I could not offer them a sample. I have not milked a sheep other than to give colostrum to a lamb. We had a tour of the animals and the bed and breakfast and then they politely thanked me and were on their way. The evening chores were waiting and the electric net fence is the first on the agenda for tomorrow to take down and set up for the sheep to protect and contain them in the pasture. That was the day on the farm, another day at the Fat Ewe!